


This is the Arsenal

by Rozu_chan_happy_tomato



Series: All The Difference [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Jedi Apprentice Series - Jude Watson & Dave Wolverton, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Anakin Skywalker Doesn't Turn to the Dark Side, Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Angst, Angst and Feels, Apologies, Aromantic, Asexual Character, Both are great, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Needs A Hug, Family Feels, Fix-It, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Visions (Star Wars), Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I love them both, I try not to lie, I would say not to worry about the minor character death but that would be a lie, Implied/Referenced Torture, Jedi Culture & Tradition (Star Wars), Jedi Culture Respected, Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi as Found Family (Star Wars), Less therapy in this one, Loss of Limbs, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mandalorian Culture (Star Wars), Mandalorian culture respected, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Mentioned Qui-Gon Jinn, Minor Character Death, Movie: Star Wars: Attack of the Clones, Nonbinary Character, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Break, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Order 66 Didn't Happen (Star Wars), Padawan Anakin Skywalker, Parent-Child Relationship, That should be a character tag, The Force, There's A Tag For That, There's quite a bit of it, and for that, more action
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:01:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29094651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rozu_chan_happy_tomato/pseuds/Rozu_chan_happy_tomato
Summary: “Don’t do anything without first consulting myself or the Council, if I’m unavailable.” Obi-wan said. Anakin sighed but nodded. “Remember, this may be a test, but they won’t be expecting you to do this all on your own. Asking for help is its own form of wisdom.” Anakin smiled at that.“So you’ve told me before, Prof,” he said. Anakin grasped Obi-wan’s hand in a mission-hug, but Obi-wan used that to pull his padawan – his son – into an actual hug. “Obi?”“T’la had a bad feeling at the start of all this,” Obi-wan murmured into Anakin’s shoulder, “you’ve been having nightmares.” Anakin clutched Obi-wan back and a slight tremble ran through his hands. “Stay safe, mo phàiste. Use only the secure comms, don’t leave Naboo unless absolutely necessary for the Senator’s protection.” Anakin nodded against Obi-wan’s shoulder and they finally separated. Obi-wan had been able to gather himself while speaking into Anakin’s shoulder and smiled at the Senator."The next installment in the series, Attack of the Clones! Will the Therapy Family come out of this unscathed? Will the clone wars begin? Find out here!
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Mace Windu, Anakin Skywalker & Original Character(s), Boba Fett & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Dooku & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Feemor & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jango Fett & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Eeth Koth, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Mace Windu, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Original Character(s), Obi-Wan Kenobi & R4-P17 | Arfour, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Yoda, Padmé Amidala & Anakin Skywalker, Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi, R2-D2 & Anakin Skywalker
Series: All The Difference [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1909651
Comments: 100
Kudos: 142





	1. We are such stuff as dreams are made on

**Author's Note:**

> If you're wondering why the tags are all messed up (character-wise), it's because I added people as I remembered they existed in the fic. Also, every chapter is titled from a quote in Shakespeare! I couldn't help myself, I think there's only one or two that aren't from Shakespeare, and those were solely titled for the pun opportunity. Apologies for the tags, I always tag a bit too much, I think. Eh. ~Aesthetic~ 
> 
> EDIT: Also, I completely forgot to mention! The Title of this fic is from the poem "The Arsenal at Springfield" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow! Chilling poem, a good read!
> 
> This is the Prologue chapter, and thus the only chapter that is 2k words (I think). The others are all 4k, which is why this took so long to write. The other parts to this series will have more chapters, but less words per chapter, which should make them faster to write! Hopefully! I'll be adding tags as I remember them, and if there's anything potentially triggering, I'll be adding that warning in the notes, so please pay attention to that. 
> 
> I hope everyone likes this! ~ Rozu_chan

“Obi?” Obi-wan glanced up at Anakin – up because his once-adorable padawan was now taller than him by a good two inches, damnit – to see a troubled face. Oh dear. Not good.

“Yes, mo phàiste?” Obi-wan placed his holonovel aside and gave Anakin his full attention. The nineteen-year-old sat in the opposite armchair with his hands folded together, prim and proper and not at all like Anakin. Obi-wan poked their bond – which had finally steadied and solidified, though it was still stronger than any other bond in recent memory between a teacher and student – and received a stubborn snub back. A wall of insolence. Teenagers. Obi-wan was lucky that Anakin was relatively mellow compared to others. Between frequent comm-calls with his mother and his and Obi-wan’s bond, not to mention his friends in the temple and therapy, Anakin was a more truly calm and collected teenager than Obi-wan had ever been, despite the face of calm he’d presented to the galaxy.

“I have a question.” Anakin said. Obi-wan nodded and waved him to go on. Anakin nodded, and unraveled his hands to tug on his padawan braid. “What does it mean when I keep seeing the same dream over and over?” Obi-wan sent a question out to the Force in his surprise and received a frustrated growl back from its normally soothing presence. Odd. Also alarming, since Anakin wasn’t prone to visions, being more attuned to the Living Force like Qui-gon had been.

“It could be a sort of vision,” Obi-wan said slowly, “what are the contents, or are they something you would feel better discussing with Healer Jalanam or T’la?” Anakin’s hesitation was obvious, and for a split-second, Obi-wan thought that Anakin was about to take the offer of an out. He didn’t.

“I keep seeing Tatooine,” Anakin said, “I know it’s Tatooine because of all the sand.” Anakin made a face, and Obi-wan quelled his amusement. Places that didn’t have any sand were always Anakin’s favorite places to be. “I keep seeing mom there.”

“But she’s still on Alderaan, is she not?” Obi-wan asked. She definitely was, he’d only spoken to her three day-cycles ago. Anakin nodded.

“The only request she said she had for the underground on Alderaan was that she not be sent to Tatooine ever again.” Obi-wan’s padawan replied. Obi-wan frowned. How odd.

“But now you’re seeing her on Tatooine?”

“Yes.”

“Every night?”

“Every night.”

“What else?” Obi-wan watched Anakin move to speak before cutting himself off and looking nervous and…scared? Worry shot through Obi-wan like a slugshot. “Anakin?” He asked, “What’s wrong, _ad_?” Anakin muttered a curse in Huttese, ruffled his hair in agitation, and leapt from his chair to collapse at Obi-wan’s feet and hug the older man’s knees. Now Obi-wan was really worried. He cradled Anakin gently.

“Anakin,” Obi-wan said, soft and gentle, “Anakin, mo phàiste, please, innis dhomh.” Anakin gripped his teeth and Obi-wan’s knees harder but told Obi-wan the rest of the dream. That he’d seen his mother on Tatooine. That Shmi had been lying prone in a tent made of Bantha hide, something that only Tuskens used. That Shmi had been dead and defiled. That Anakin had killed the raiders, all of them, even the children, even the women, even the non-raiding men. Through it all, Obi-wan held Anakin, even as Obi-wan joined him on the floor and Anakin transferred the grip on Obi-wan’s knees to his mentor’s torso. Even as Anakin sobbed through the step-by-step retelling of the slaughter of the Tusken camp. Even as Anakin fell asleep, exhausted, after he’d finished his retelling. Obi-wan held Anakin for some time afterwards, thinking, worrying. He groped for the comm that was attached to his wrist and blindly typed in a comm-code he knew by heart.

“Yes?” Shmi’s voice soothed something in Obi-wan, a part of him that had been tightening in anxiety released its tension, and Obi-wan slumped back against the armchair, Anakin slumping with him, still fast asleep. And drooling. “Obi-wan?”

“Ah, yes, apologies for the lack of reply, Shmi.” Obi-wan sighed at his own rudeness. “Anakin just shared a troubling dream with me.” Shmi made a worried sound, and Obi-wan continued, “do you happen to be anywhere near Tatooine?”

“No,” Shmi answered. “And I don’t plan on ever going back.” Obi-wan nodded, though he knew she couldn’t see him. “Was that what his dream was about?”

“Yes,” Obi-wan said, “and it was a rather disturbing one, as well. I think he would be comfortable telling you himself in his own time.” Shmi hummed in agreement.

“Would verbally promising never to go back help, do you think?”

“Possibly,” Obi-wan said. “The Force isn’t giving up any answers at the moment.” The Force growled in agitation again. “Extremely unhelpful,” he said to it. Shmi chuckled.

“I’ll promise him, then, the next time he comms me.” A woman’s voice rang out from the background of Shmi’s side. “I must sign off. Take care, Obi-wan.”

“Take care, Shmi.” Shmi hung up. Obi-wan punched in the next comm-code he’d learned by heart. The moment the receiver picked up, he spoke. “T’la, we’re going to need all the comfort food you can get your roots on.”

&&&

Zabu – newly knighted – sprawled across Anakin and Galvi’s laps. Xey were chewing obnoxiously on chewy noodles while Auntie Phan scowled good-naturedly at her old padawan.

“What did I say about-“

“Chew with your mouth _closed_ , Zabu. Chewing with your mouth open is _rude_ , Zabu. If you don’t wish to eat insects, chew with your mouth _shut_ , Zabu.”

“That sounds…kriffing annoying.” Galvi snickered when Auntie Phan nailed her on the head with a torn-off piece of cloud-bread. T’la nailed _Auntie Phan_ on the head with a bean. Phandrire stared at the Neti, aghast.

“She got you there.” Shasa leaned back against Quinlan, content with the mayhem that was currently going on, with Obi-wan in a gentle headlock courtesy of Bant and being laughed at by Garen and Reeft, T’la and Phandrire about to start a food fight, and Zabu continuing to chew obnoxiously while languishing on Anakin and Galvi’s laps. Aayla sat a bit apart from it all, finding amusement as Shasa did in the mayhem of this strange family. _It’s a pity_ , the Knight thought, _that Mace, Eeth, Depa, and Feemor couldn’t be here_.

“I agree,” Quinlan whispered into Shasa’s ear. They had agreed to start slow and see where their relationship led after an intervention from T’la, of all people, who had exasperatedly requested that they ‘talk to each other in something other than flirt, please,’ or she would go insane. That was about two years ago, after 8 consecutive years of flirting with increasing interest but lack of willingness to take a chance. Shasa was glad they had.

“How love-y,” T’la said, crooning, from where she was using the Force to block Phandrire’s thrown bits of bread, “love-y, love-y, love-y! I’m glad the Obnoxious Flirting phase is over.”

“That was unbearable,” Obi-wan said in agreement, and Reeft poked his side, which resulted in an undignified squeak. Anakin laughed at that, which had been the whole point. Shasa grinned sharply.

“Who said that phase was _over_?” Quinlan stiffened behind him, and Shasa could practically _feel_ the glee that was leaching off the Kiffar. Obi-wan obviously could too, through their bond, and a look of instant regret flashed across his face before it was hidden under resigned trepidation.

“Oh?” Quinlan’s voice dropped an octave. “If I’d known we were still in that phase, _Shasa, emperor of my heart_ , I would never have stopped.”

“Better that you had,” Shasa responded in kind, “or _darling_ T’la would have surely combusted with embarrassment on our behalf, _dearest of my soul_.” He rubbed Quinlan’s nose with his own.

“Stop, stop!” Anakin said with a laugh, covering his ears. “There are young ears present.” He’d said the last bit in a spot-on impersonation of Obi-wan, which caused T’la to cackle wildly in her own unintentional impersonation of Yoda and Yaddle. This caused Shasa to start to laugh, which in turn began a chain reaction that ended with everyone in the room bent over in hysterics while trying not to overturn the Kaf-table that was holding their comfort food. This was the mess that Mace and Eeth walked into, and Shasa couldn’t find it in himself to be even the slightest bit guilty when he saw how their troubled frowns lightened upon seeing the levity in the room.

“Mace, Eeth!” T’la elected to ignore their twin troubled looks and waved them to sit at the table. Obi-wan reminded her that _he_ was the host, since he was the one who’d invited them all, and T’la reminded _Obi-wan_ that she was his pseudo-mom and could do what she wanted, so there. Mace failed to smile at the exchange, which sobered the party fairly quickly.

“Bad news, then?” Aayla spoke up from her perch on the back of the couch. She dug her toes into the cushions and exchanged looks with Anakin, Zabu, and Galvi. Mace’s frown deepened.

“Indeed.” He said, and finally sat down. “No alcohol?” Eeth sat next to him.

“Underage children are present,” T’la reminded him, gesturing at the four who had been exchanging looks with each other. Zabu immediately protested that xey were in fact of age, but quelled xer protests when Phandrire shook her head softly.

&&&

“Senator Amidala’s convoy was attacked?” Anakin’s eyebrows raised even higher than T’la had thought possible, and she’d known the boy since he was 9. Well, he _did_ have good reason to raise his brows so high; he’d had a crush on the young Queen of Naboo for years until he had talked it through with herself, Obi-wan, Shmi (who was a wonderfully strong female), and Jalanam. He’d isolated the emotions he’d been feeling, identified them as ideation and no small amount of hero-worship, and took the time to properly understand and accept those emotions. Now, all she could see left was worry for an old friend. _How far he’s come_ , T’la thought, smiling, _he’ll be all grown up soon_.

“Yes, we don’t know who by, yet,” Mace scowled at the table and then the giant hunk of cloud bread in his hand. He viciously tore into the bread with his teeth and chewed in a way that made T’la feel bad for the bread. “Until we know more, she’ll be needing a guard. Her captain put in a request for one.”

“Was he very particular about this request?” Garen asked. He was leaning against Reeft, almost tilting his friend sideways with his weight. T’la watched Mace closely. There, a twitch.

“ _He_ wasn’t, but the _Chancellor_ was.” Mace’s emotions roiled in the Force wildly for a moment before he hissed a breath in and let it explode out, taking those emotions with it, and aggravated scream into the Force. Anakin sat up straight.

“It’s us, isn’t it,” he said gravely, meaning himself and Obi-wan, “it’s always us, when the Chancellor is involved.”

“Is there any way-“

“No, I tried everything,” Mace interrupted T’la, shaking his head. T’la sighed. That was the way of it, sometimes. They’d been able to keep Anakin away from the Chancellor for years until the boy had turned 17. Thankfully, by then Anakin had gained a distrust of most politicians (barring Bail Organa, Bail Antilles, and a scant few others) and a healthy suspicion of the current Chancellor, who’s honeyed words directly contradicted the bills that he forced through the Senate. Quite a few of those bills had been limiting the Jedi’s already extremely limited ability to help those outside of the Republic – slaves in particular – in the last few years.

“So, we’re on another mission.” Obi-wan said. Bant had relocated her arms from around his neck to his shoulders and was holding on tightly. T’la grimaced.

“Apparently so, and so soon after the last one, too.” She said. Mace also grimaced.

“Ler and Jalanam aren’t going to be very happy about that.” Obi-wan observed. Anakin laughed shortly, verging on hysterical, and leaned back against the couch.

“No, they will not be.” He agreed.

They weren’t.

&&&

T’la stood in Obi-wan and Anakin’s quarters, watching them pack. Since Obi-wan had been expecting to have a longer repose than a few days, he hadn’t packed his usual go-bag, and so he and Anakin were both rushing about their quarters, trying to find clean articles of clothing.

“T’la, have you seen-“

“On the counter.”

“T’la, is there-“

“By the bookcase.” T’la smiled fondly, and a little sadly, as two of her pseudo-children frantically packed. A yearning entered her heart for years past and her own father-figure. Her first family. Ki-Ali-Undo and Djen Aso. Her hair roots creaked and sap threatened to leak from her eyes. Months, _years_ had gone by since she’d last thought their names, the pain dulled – but not forgotten – because of her new family. But that phrase. That _dreaded_ phrase: ‘I have a bad feeling about this,’ was tickling at the back of her brain, threatening to burst forth alongside a flood of sap and a breaking of her heart. Somehow, by the end of this assignment, she knew that her family would never be whole again, happiness tempered by loss. The Force brushed soothing tendrils across her presence, sad, apologetic. Obi-wan and Anakin were packed and staring at T’la curiously. She tried to smile. Opened her mouth. The Force nudged her _hard_.

“I-I have a bad feeling,” she said. Sobbed. Sap made its way past her defenses. Obi-wan and Anakin sucked in a startled breath at the same time. “Please be careful.” The last time she’d said that-no. She wouldn’t even consider the parallels. Perhaps that was superstitious of her, but her boys were now hugging her with all their strength, and all she wanted to do was hug them back, breath in their scents, and _hope_.

“We will,” Anakin said, trying to be reassuring.

“ _Ib’tuur jatne tuur ash’ad kyr’amur_ ,” Obi-wan said, his voice was hard and determined. No reassurance, but pure stubbornness.

“What he said,” Anakin added, squeezing T’la tighter. She cleared enough sap from her eyes to see, and then cleared her throat.

“Thank you, Obi, Ani. _Vor entye_.” Obi-wan and Anakin released her and bowed in perfect unison.

“ _Ret’urcye mhi, buir_.” Obi-wan said. Anakin, after a moment rolling the words around on his tongue, echoed him. T’la cupped their cheeks in her hands for a moment, wordless, before they smiled at her and left the room.

“ _Ret’urcye mhi, ad’ike_.” T’la whispered to the empty room.


	2. The Chase is Afoot!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, not Shakespeare for the title but in fact Sherlock Holmes! There are indeed a few of these, but I couldn't resist! Way too tempting!
> 
> By the way, from the point when Jar Jar enters, that's when I'm using dialogue and places from the movie script that I was able to find. There are changes, because Obi-wan and Anakin aren't the same as they were in the cannon-verse, but just know that it might seem a tad like rehashing for a bit. (Also, it might seem like there's an inordinate amount of laughing happening in that part. I'm basing that off the fact that I tend to laugh a lot when I'm meeting up with friends after not having seen them in a while.) 
> 
> Happy Reading! ~Rozu_chan

“What was that, with T’la?” Anakin asked as the elevator rose through the floors of the fancy apartment building. Obi-wan glanced over at his padawan questioningly. The crying, or the words? Anakin hastened to expound. “She just. I don’t know. She hasn’t. Cried. You know? Since we met her. And that. She said _the words_ , Obi.”

“She did.”

“I think someone’s going to die.” This was about the dream, then. He had to make sure.

“The dream?”

“Maybe it wasn’t my mom…maybe she’s a…uhm…”

“Metaphor?”

“Yeah, that. For someone I’m close to.” Obi-wan thought about that for a moment as the elevator slowly drew closer to their destination.

“Perhaps,” Obi-wan said slowly, “but perhaps not.” He shook his head before Anakin could interrupt. Recognizing a teaching moment, Anakin closed his mouth and gave Obi-wan his full attention. “Dreams are sometimes just dreams, and sometimes they are visions. You know that I used to have those, yes?”

“And sometimes still do.” Anakin said with a nod. Obi-wan smiled in acknowledgement and continued with the mini-lesson.

“Qui-gon used to tell me – in all the infinite wisdom of a person fully entrenched in the Living Force – that dreams pass, and the future is always in motion.” Obi-wan stared contemplatively at the ceiling, trying to explain in a way that wouldn’t negatively color Anakin’s view of Qui-gon. “He was right, dreams _do_ pass, and the future _isn’t_ stagnant, but he hadn’t phrased that lesson in quite the right way. I believe Mace puts it best: ‘We should not become so fully invested in future-sight and past-sight that we forget to see the present.’”

“What does that mean?” Anakin asked. Obi-wan tore his gaze from the ceiling to smile at Anakin sadly.

“It means that if someone does die who is dear to us, we should not lose our sight of where the true blame falls. Just because we have seen the event through a vision, does not mean the Force wished us to stop it.”

“Why show us, if the Force wouldn’t want us to stop the death from happening?” Anakin was furrowing his brows in a way that Obi-wan had learned was the beginnings of frustration. Rarely was the look ever directed at Obi-wan or T’la, but now seemed to be one of those times. Or perhaps the frustration was with the Force. Obi-wan worked over potential answers in his head, discarding ones that Anakin would find difficult to understand.

“Sometimes, the point of the vision is to ready us for that reality.” Obi-wan said. “I’d dreamed of Qui-gon dying in various ways at different points in my time as his padawan…” he trailed off, trying to put the experience into words that would fit the amount of time they had left in the elevator. He’d never told Anakin this before and knew his padawan-son would want the full story after this assignment was over. As it was, Anakin recognized the time constraint and held himself back from asking the questions that were highly likely to be burning their way up his throat and building up on his side of the bond. Obi-wan couldn’t finish the story out loud. That felt…final, somehow.

“ _In various ways, yes, but the most prevalent was any weapon through his chest._ ” Obi-wan said through their bond, focusing intently on a stain in the carpet, “ _I felt horribly about the entire ordeal after Naboo, which ended up being a large part of my therapy, as you know._ ” Anakin _did_ know and placed a hand on Obi-wan’s arm. Obi-wan could feel the intense need that Anakin had to hug him and placed a hand on Anakin’s hand for a small approximation of the action. “ _After, mo phàiste_ ” Anakin nodded, and the elevator doors opened with a cheerful _ding_.

Jar Jar. His excited greetings caused Obi-wan to smile nostalgically. However bumbling the Gungan was, he was a good friend and Obi-wan was glad to see him. Jar Jar stared in surprise over Obi-wan’s shoulder at Anakin for a moment before erupting into similar cheerful greetings to the one he gave Obi-wan.

“Hi Jar Jar,” Anakin returned with a smile. The Gungan screeched delightedly and swept Obi-wan’s laughing apprentice up in a hug.

“Shesa expecting yousa,” Jar Jar said to Obi-wan over Anakin’s shoulder, “Ani…mesa no believin!” Obi-wan laughed as Jar Jar tried his utmost to squeeze the life out of Anakin, who made exaggerated suffering faces at Obi-wan but laughed and squeezed Jar Jar back just as hard. After finally letting Anakin go, Jar Jar swept Obi-wan up as well, but the hug was gentler.

“It’s good to see you too, Jar Jar.” Obi-wan hugged Jar Jar back as Anakin fixed his robes, having had them knocked askew by Jar Jar’s attack. “How have you been, old friend?”

“Mesa been helping Senator Amidala,” Jar Jar replied. He released Obi-wan and stood back to grin at the both of them. “Wesa glad shesa bein okayen.”

“I’ll bet,” Anakin said, “do you know who-“

“Lady Corde.” Jar Jar said, a sad tilt to his head. His eyelids drooped. “She was nicen. I’ll bea missen her.” Obi-wan placed a commiserating hand on Jar Jar’s shoulder. The three stood in the entryway in silence as the artificial sun sunk closer to the horizon. When the color changed in the room, dappling the furniture and walls with soft pinks and oranges, Jar Jar perked up.

“I’ll be taken yousa to the Senator now!” With a final pat to Jar Jar’s shoulder, Obi-wan and Anakin followed Jar Jar further into the rooms.

“ _I’m nervous_ ,” Anakin said to Obi-wan. Obi-wan glanced at Anakin and smiled.

“ _You’ve no need to be, my dear Padawan_.” Obi-wan replied. “ _While our reintroduction to the Senator may not be as…enthusiastic as our reunion with Jar Jar, I feel she will be happy to see us. Perhaps you most of all_.” Anakin flashed a relieved grin at Obi-wan, and they entered a living space, where Senator Amidala was speaking with two others, who Obi-wan recalled to be Captain Typho (who he recognized from the debrief) and Dorme. As Jar Jar introduced Obi-wan and Anakin, Senator Amidala and Captain Typho stood from the couch. Obi-wan and Anakin bowed to the Senator with a polite smile.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, milady.” Obi-wan said. As he straightened, Senator Amidala clasped his hands with her own and gave him a warm, kind smile.

“It’s been far too long, Master Kenobi,” she said, and Obi-wan noted the sadness in her eyes as she said ‘master,’ likely thinking about Qui-gon. “I’m so glad our paths have crossed again…” she paused, and Obi-wan inwardly groaned (through the bond as well, which made Anakin quickly stifle a snort) at the lit fire of the righteous he could see in her eyes, “but I must warn you that _I_ think your presence here is unnecessary.” She was probably right, Obi-wan reflected, remembering the extent to which Rabe and Sabe had told him the handmaidens and the Queen had been trained.

“I’m sure the Jedi Council had their reasons,” he answered, as diplomatically as possible, and just as pointedly _not_ looking in Captain Typho’s direction. Senator Amidala hummed, that spark still alight in her eyes, but she had focused them on Anakin. It took a moment, and then recognition softened her gaze. “ _What did I tell you, Padawan-mine_?” Obi-wan sent over smugly as the Senator’s face broke out into a delighted smile.

“Ani?” She moved in front of Anakin, who was calm on the inside but sending ‘please help’ signals through the bond that Obi-wan pretended not to receive. “My goodness, you’ve grown!” Anakin fumbled for something to say as his smile grew into something more genuine.

“Perhaps taller, but not much wiser,” he said, obviously trying for a joking tone. It did land, and he continued, “Master Obi-wan has had to drag me away from pod-races on the regular here.”

“He still drives like he’s in a pod-race too,” Obi-wan said with a mock-groan that – as usual – didn’t fail to get Anakin’s smile to turn mischievous. The joking seemed to lower the Senator’s hackles slightly, so perhaps a more familiar kind of discussion would be better. Obi-wan sent that observation to Anakin along with a reminder not to promise anything. They were here to guard.

“ _If someone_ does _try something while we’re here, we can and will give chase,_ ” Obi-wan had told Anakin this earlier on the way to the apartments, “ _but unless that happens, the investigation will be taken care of by Judicial_.”

“ _I remember,_ ” Anakin sent to Obi-wan, obviously amused. “ _Didn’t you tell_ me _not to be nervous_?”

“ _I’m not-_ “ Obi-wan was cut off by Senator Amidala.

“Well, I still don’t need any bodyguards.” She said, sweeping her arm around to indicate Captain Typho and Dorme. Obi-wan tucked his hands into his sleeves to grasp his elbows.

“Our presence will be invisible, I assure you.” He said.

“I’m very grateful you’re here, Master Kenobi,” Captain Typho said. “I’m Captain Typho, Captain Panaka’s successor. Queen Jamila has informed you of your assignment.” Obi-wan nodded at that. “The situation is more dangerous than the Senator will admit.” Obi-wan hummed and exchanged a look with Anakin.

“I don’t need more security,” Senator Amidala said. She crossed her arms and lifted her chin. Obi-wan thought that she rather looked as though she’d spent some time around Satine. He and Anakin definitely had their work cut out for them if that was the case. “I need answers. I want to know who’s trying to kill me.” Fair enough. However…

“We are here to protect you, Senator,” Obi-wan said, “Not start an investigation.”

“Judicial is working on the investigation,” Anakin added. Obi-wan sent proud approval down their bond. Perhaps _that_ would sooth the Senator’s feathers and let Obi-wan and Anakin do their duty. The Senator frowned.

“And if they try to kill me while you’re on duty?”

“Then we shall give chase. However, unless the assassin or assassins confront us directly, the investigation will be taken care of by Judicial.” Obi-wan said. Senator Amidala smiled once again, though Obi-wan could tell it was a lot more political than it was familiar.

“Perhaps with merely your presence, the mysteries surrounding this threat will be revealed,” she said, “Now, if you will excuse me, I will retire.” Dorme followed the Senator out, and Captain Typho gave his regards to Obi-wan and Anakin before heading down the stairs to the control room. That left Obi-wan and Anakin with Jar Jar, who smiled reassuringly.

“Shesa happy,” Jar Jar said, “Happier den mesa seein her in longo time.”

“That she was, Anakin.” Obi-wan said in agreement. Anakin’s face had flushed in embarrassment. Obi-wan tilted his head slightly to silently ask if they needed to talk or meditate. Anakin shook his head.

“I just thought that I was completely over that crush,” he admitted. Obi-wan huffed and shook his head.

“While I don’t know about romantic feelings,” Obi-wan said, “I know that I feel nervous when I haven’t seen a friend in years. I wonder if they still remember me, if we’ll still get along, or if maybe we’ll have a falling-out and everything will become awkward.” Anakin gaped for a moment and then grinned.

“Well, it’s kinda like that, I guess.” He said. “What do you do to get over it?”

“I don’t think about it at all,” Obi-wan replied drily. As Anakin laughed, he continued. “Now, let’s check the security here.”

“Okay, Prof.” Anakin and Obi-wan smiled at each other and then swiftly searched the security points with Jar Jar, making conversation until every nook and cranny had been investigated. Then, the three of them sat on the couches in the room to continue their discussion.

&&&

Later in the evening, after Jar Jar had also retired, Obi-wan left the Senator in Anakin’s capable hands and took a trip to check in with Captain Typho in the control room. They and some others from the security team passed some time discussing possible methods they could counter for – Obi-wan providing some potential methods that Captain Typho and his team hadn’t considered – before Obi-wan headed back to his post. As the door opened, he saw Anakin across the room, smiling at Obi-wan with his hand leaving its spot on his lightsaber.

“Have you been on guard the whole time I was gone?” Obi-wan asked. Anakin ducked his head and Obi-wan chuckled. “The Captain has more than enough men downstairs,” he said in his ‘professional’ voice, “Any activity up here?” Anakin shook his head.

“Quiet as a tomb.” Anakin said. He scrunched his nose. “I don’t like the waiting.”

“No one likes the waiting,” Obi-wan said with a sigh. He checked the view scanner that was supposed to be connected to security cameras in the room, and was concerned to see that while half of the bed was being shown, the other half that was probably holding the Senator was missing. Where had that gone? Sure, it was a narrow frame missing, but a vital one that could mean life or death. “What’s going on?” Obi-wan asked, more than a little bit alarmed. Anakin scrunched his face again.

“She covered the cameras and programmed R2 to warn us if anything happens. She wants to play bait.”

“What _is_ she thinking?” Obi-wan said, stroking his beard reflexively, a nervous tick. Anakin reached out and grasped Obi-wan’s hand in a mission-hug.

“She’s thinking she’s scared and wants to know what the shadow in her closet is.” Anakin said softly. His hold on Obi-wan’s hand was gentle, and Obi-wan grasped his hand back. Obi-wan smiled at the phrasing.

“This is a tad more dangerous than the pile of clothing that ended up being _your_ shadow, balach grèine.” Obi-wan said. “I suppose we can sense if anything is going wrong in there,” he nodded at the door to the Senator’s room, “but I would have been glad for the extra security.” He and Anakin let go of each other’s hand and meandered to the balcony. Anakin turned to Obi-wan once they were outside, a teasing light entering into his eyes. Obi-wan braced himself for trouble.

“Is she a better politician than the others?” Anakin asked. “Is she like Senator Organa, in your opinion?” Obi-wan let out a gusty sigh.

“It’s been an overwhelming experience of mine that Senators are only focused on pleasing those who fund their campaigns…” Obi-wan squinted out across the wilds of Coruscant, “and they are more than willing to forget the niceties of democracy to get those funds. Bail so far has been an exception to the rule. Senator Amidala may be another.” Anakin made a sound of protest, and Obi-wan smiled at his still-young padawan. “I’m hardly going to make a judgement either way until I actually see what her galactic politics are like.”

“Oh, the whole trying to be unbiased thing.” Anakin nodded. “I don’t think I can do that.” Obi-wan clapped a hand onto Anakin’s shoulder and squeezed, squarely meeting his padawan’s blue eyes.

“You’re still a padawan,” Obi-wan said, “you’re allowed to be unable to be unbiased at times. That’s what being a padawan is all about.” They turned and walked silently back into the room as Anakin digested what Obi-wan said. A droid screeched. A shock flew through Obi-wan’s system, and he didn’t need to look at Anakin to know that his padawan had felt the shock as well. They burst into Senator Amidala’s room, lightsabers alight, and Anakin leapt onto the bed and sliced apart two Kouhuns. Obi-wan saw this in periphery, scanning the windows for…there!

Crashing through the window was probably a terrible idea, but the droid had been about to escape, so Obi-wan had really no other choice. Perhaps… _don’t look down_. The droid tried to shake Obi-wan off, diving straight into the traffic of upper Coruscant. A shock flew through Obi-wan’s veins into his stomach – not the Force this time – and he tightened his grip in response, gritting his teeth through the pain. If only…Obi-wan released a hand and groped around the back of the droid…there was a wire, if he recalled correctly…a wire! He pulled it. They dropped. _Bad idea! Bad idea!_ Obi-wan yelled out wordlessly and replaced the wire. The droid turned back on, screeched its aggravation, and zoomed off once more with its added baggage.

“Osik,” Obi-wan grumbled, twisting this way and that to avoid oncoming traffic. The lights were all blurring together through the speed of the drivers, the smell of Coruscant practically punching him in the nose as he and the droid shakily flew along. A wall rudely tried to knock Obi-wan from his perch, as did the afterburner of a speeder. Obi-wan narrowly avoided both, though the wall had scraped his arm some. A feeling welled up inside him as the droid weaved through closely built buildings and headed for a roof. _Don’t say it_ , Obi-wan thought.

Lifting his legs, Obi-wan continued the mantra of ‘don’t say it’ in his head as he also prayed to the Force that the droid didn’t lower itself further. That would be unpleasant. Luckily, the droid didn’t. Unluckily, the assassin they seemed to be headed towards had a rifle pointed in their direction.

“Osik,” Obi-wan said. The droid didn’t say anything but instead took a direct hit. Obi-wan sighed. “I have a bad feeling about this,” he said reluctantly. The droid – true to form – promptly exploded. Pain laced through Obi-wan’s hands, and he hissed as he dropped from the sky. He reached out through the bond…

“There you are.” Obi-wan slowed his descent enough to land properly in the speeder his Padawan was driving. Obi-wan inspected the burns on his knuckles as Anakin sped off after the assassin.

“Well, that was wacky! I almost lost you in the traffic!” Anakin reached over and flipped the glove compartment open. “Bacta patches should be there.” Obi-wan reached in and pulled out the med-kit.

“What took you so long?” Obi-wan kept his eyes on the speeder that the assassin was flying as he pulled the patches out and quickly applied them. Anakin grinned and shrugged.

“Oh, you know, Obi, I couldn’t find a speeder I really liked, with an open cockpit…” Anakin poked the arm that had been attacked by a wall and Obi-wan held back a grimace. “and with the right speed capabilities…” Anakin inspected his poking-finger and frowned. “and then you _know_ I had to get a really gonzo color…you’re bleeding.”

“I know.”

“What happened?” Anakin narrowly dodged an oncoming speeder and wiped his finger on his robes. Obi-wan grasped his seat tightly as his stomach swooped. He gritted his teeth.

“Well, you see- _careful_! Easy!” Another near miss, and they’d almost flipped upside-down then. Anakin grinned again ruefully.

“Sorry, Prof. I forgot you didn’t really like flying.”

“I like flying just fine. What _you’re_ doing is _suicide_!” As though to prove Obi-wan’s point, Anakin barely missed colliding with a commuter-train. Obi-wan thought that his stomach was going to continue swooping forever at this rate. Luckily, he didn’t nauseate that easily. Anakin had the gall to laugh at Obi-wan’s suffering.

“You know I’ve been flying since before I could walk!” Anakin said, in good humor considering the circumstances. They’d lost that assassin because of their near-miss with the commuter-train. “I’m very good at this. Put a bacta patch on your arm.”

“Just slow down!” Obi-wan decided to ignore the bacta patch comment. There would be time for that later. “There!” There was the _demagolka_. “There they go!” Obi-wan grimaced this time as his arm connected with the side of the speeder when Anakin shot off after the assassin. Obi-wan ended up cursing in his head and out loud quite a bit as the chase went on. In tunnels, out of tunnels, right beside the assassin who shot at Obi-wan, through power couplings (not Obi-wan’s favorite pastime), stalling, un-stalling, almost getting exploded, being on fire, and finally, one of Anakin’s ‘short-cuts,’ which inevitably ended up with Obi-wan’s padawan-

“…Excuse me for a moment.”

_Leaping_ out of the speeder. Leaving Obi-wan to pilot the damn thing down after him. Again. “I hate it when he does that,” Obi-wan said, grumpy. He gave chase. Lost them. Found them! The assassin had crashed on the streets. Obi-wan felt a shock of worry zip through him when he saw Anakin sprawled on the ground where he’d been thrown. It only took a moment to land the speeder and run after Anakin, reaching him in time to stop his impatient but well-meaning padawan from causing a ruckus in the club.

“Anakin!”

“They went into that club, Prof.”

“I know. But what have we learned about patience?” Anakin shuffled sheepishly.

“The Force speaks to us easier through patience.” Obi-wan nodded.

“They went in there to hide, not to run.” The underlying message got through, Obi-wan knew. Don’t cause a ruckus. Let them come to us.

“Yes, Prof.” Anakin said. His hand went to his belt, and he grimaced. Obi-wan smirked and waggled Anakin’s saber in front of him.

“Looking for this?” Anakin bit his lips to stop a smile and nodded. “Next time, try not to lose it.” Anakin reached for the lightsaber, but Obi-wan pulled it away. The smirk stayed on his face. “A Jedi’s saber is their most precious possession…”

“I must keep it with me at all times,” Anakin recited with a gusty sigh, “the weapon is my life. Yes, yes. I know, I’ve heard this lesson so many times before.” 

“But has the lesson stuck?” Obi-wan questioned, handing the lightsaber over. Anakin, recognizing the moment for what it was – a chance to cool down and regain his patience – stuck his tongue out at Obi-wan, who’s smirk transformed into a look of mock-offence as he walked into the club. Anakin followed, keeping his lightsaber in his hand. In this, Obi-wan was to be the prey.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re going to be the death of me?” Obi-wan asked lightly, letting his gaze travel languidly around the club, not focusing on any one person in particular, but on the general movements. Anakin brushed against Obi-wan’s side, looking around the club himself, and answered a tad more seriously than Obi-wan had thought he would.

“Don’t say that, Obi. You’re the closest thing I _have_ to a father.” Obi-wan’s lips twitched and his eyes burned. “I love you. I don’t want to cause you pain.” Obi-wan cleared his throat and smiled at Anakin, who smiled back.

“And you are like my son,” Obi-wan replied. “I wish no harm to come to you at all. Now,” Obi-wan looked around so he didn’t have to face those blue eyes full of love, “can you see them?”

“I think they’re a changeling,” Anakin said as an answer. Obi-wan was definitely going to be playing bait. He indicated so with a certain rhythm of tapping that he and Anakin had learned from Shasa.

“In that case,” Obi-wan said once he’d received a subtle nod from Anakin, “be extra careful in finding them.” They could be anyone, wasn’t said out loud. Obi-wan opened their bond more than it would usually be.

“ _Communicate through this_.” He said, receiving acknowledgement from Anakin. Out loud, Anakin replied to Obi-wan’s order.

“Alright, Prof. Where will you be?” Obi-wan was already walking away, adopting a casual swing to his step.

“At the bar, getting a drink,” Obi-wan answered. “ _The one close to the doors. I’ll order the most alcoholic for humanoids and filter. Easy target_.”

“ _Be careful,_ ” Anakin said, slipping off into the crowd.

“ _Aren’t I always_?” Obi-wan arrived at the bar and ordered. A sleazy character slid into the space next to him.

“ _You’re the one always getting kidnapped_.”

“You wanna buy some death-sticks?” The sleazy character twirled some death-sticks around his fingers.

“ _Not always, young padawan._ ” Obi-wan waved his fingers subtly. “You don’t want to sell me death-sticks.”

“ _At_ least _once every two missions_.”

“I…don’t want to sell you death-sticks.” The sleaze slipped the sticks back into his front pocket.

“ _No, less than that, I believe_.” Obi-wan subtly waved his fingers again. “You want to go home and rethink your life.”

“ _No, you’re right. About one in three. The one in two is injury_.”

“I…want to go home and…rethink my life.” Obi-wan once again had an empty spot next to him, and he knocked the shot back…well…like a shot.

“ _Hardly_ that _many_.” A warning from the Force rang in Obi-wan’s mind. “ _Behind me, as we hoped._ ”

“ _Be careful_.”

“ _Always_.” The assassin’s arm fell to the floor. Obi-wan stuck his saber back to his belt and Anakin appeared at Obi-wan’s side with his own out to take care of the crowd as Obi-wan dragged the assassin up.

“Official business,” Anakin said, holding up his lightsaber as proof, “go back to your drinks.” The crowd did. Of course they did, this far into Coruscant. Obi-wan and Anakin carried the bounty-hunter – now that Obi-wan could _see_ them properly, he knew that’s what they were – out of the club and into a back alley. Obi-wan quickly set to work making sure that the wound was clear as the bounty-hunter glared at Anakin.

“Do you know who it was you were trying to kill?” Obi-wan asked. If he and Anakin gone after the wrong one…

“The Senator from Naboo.” Oh good, this _was_ the right one. The Force curled around Obi-wan in amusement.

“Who hired you?” the Bounty-hunter’s glare switched from Anakin to Obi-wan, and they kept their mouth shut tight. Sort of.

“It was just a _job_ ,” they spat out.

“Who hired you?” Anakin asked again. His lightsaber was out, but it wasn’t lit. A passive threat.

“That Senator’s gonna die soon anyways,” the bounty-hunter said archly, “and the next one won’t make the same mistake I did.” Obi-wan decided to leave the questioning to Anakin, who seemed to be getting better results.

“This wound is going to need treatment,” he said, wrapping it as best he could.

“Tell us now.” Anakin said. He was a rather looming presence with his height. The bounty-hunter glared, and then sighed.

“It was a bounty-hunter called-“ The Force cried out in warning. Too late. A dart was sticking out of the bounty-hunter’s neck as they was gasping for breath and slowly turning back into their original Clawdite form. A familiar whooshing sound came from the distance. A jetpack. That meant…

“A…Mandalorian?” Obi-wan sure hoped that wasn’t who he thought it was. _Osik_. He _really_ hoped it wasn’t who he thought it was. The figure had been too far away to see the colors on the _beskar’gam_ , but most _mando’ade_ were back on _manda’yaim_ after the consolidation of the New and True Mandalorians back into one people.

“Mandalorian?” Anakin asked. Obi-wan didn’t answer as he carefully pinched the dart out from the bounty-hunter’s neck.

“Toxic dart…” Obi-wan tilted it around in his hand, careful not to let it prick him. How…odd. Not very Jango-like. Perhaps the figure wasn’t Jango?


	3. The Team is Split! Obi-wan Calls for Aid!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet you don't know what influenced the title THIS time! :D It was ~definitely~ not from Obi-wan's favorite books...no SIR! That's the only hint you get!  
> Just a quick warning here: T'la does get dragged into a minor flashback and freaks out a bit (a lot). This happens directly after the meeting with the Chancellor, so please read the next paragraphs carefully. Take care of yourselves <3  
> I tried to put as much humor as possible into this part of the series, so I hope it goes over well!
> 
> Happy Reading! ~Rozu_chan

After handing the body of the bounty-hunter over to the Judicial forces who had arrived on the scene, Obi-wan and Anakin made their way back to Senator Amidala’s rooms in contemplative silence. Once there, they reassured the Senator and her people and relocated her to Dorme’s room, where Obi-wan and Anakin stood guard the rest of the night in a tense watch.

“A Mandalorian?” Anakin asked as the artificial sun peeked over the horizon. Obi-wan glanced over with a conflicted look.

“Maybe a _Haat Mando’ade_ , maybe a _Kyr’tsad_ , I don’t know.” Obi-wan replied.

“Don’t you know the leader?”

“Both of them, yes.” Obi-wan frowned. “I certainly hope the person we saw last night wasn’t one of them, but they were too far away to make out the _aliik_ or colors on their _beskar’gam_.”

“ _Aliik_?” Anakin had been slowly learning _mando’a_ , but this was evidently a new word.

“A sigil or symbol on the _beskar’gam_.” Obi-wan said, squinting his eyes almost shut as the artificial sun decided to pierce through his retinae. How rude. Anakin chuckled at the face Obi-wan made, and then quickly sobered.

“What if they _were_ the leader?” He asked as rustling from the room they were guarding indicated that their charges were waking. Obi-wan shrugged.

“I’ll hear him out, I suppose,” Obi-wan replied, “he only takes assassination jobs for particular reasons now. Being the _mand’alor_ right now means less political power, but more influence amongst the people. Setting a precedent for taking on just any political assassination would be…inadvisable.” Anakin nodded, and the two stepped apart as the door slid open. The Senator and Dorme were dressed identically in floor length tan dresses with flowers decorating the collar, shoulders, and down the back. Their hair was likewise identically coiffed in an elaborate braided bun.

“I believe you will need to report to your Council on the events of last night,” Senator Amidala said. Obi-wan was – as always – impressed at the similarities that the two women held that made their appearances almost identical. The only way that Obi-wan was able to tell that the Senator was the Senator was through their Force signatures. He and Anakin bowed and left the Senator and her entourage to their early meal.

“Well, this should be fun.” Obi-wan said cheerily. Anakin groaned.

&&&

Obi-wan knew that Anakin never enjoyed reporting to the Council. _Anakin_ knew that Obi-wan knew that Anakin never enjoyed reporting to the Council. The non-enjoyment didn’t come from the people actually _on_ the Council, Obi-wan knew – almost everybody on the Council was kind and had a smile for everyone – but from the pressure of reporting. Public speaking was most certainly _not_ on Anakin’s (admittedly long) list of proficiencies. Neither had it been Obi-wan’s before he’d become a Master.

“Track down this bounty hunter you must, Obi-wan.” Master Yoda had _that_ look on his face. The one that he probably had when he decided that throwing an already anxiety-riddled padawan at an emotionally damaged man was the best way to _fix_ said man and the padawan’s anxiety at the same time. He was plotting. Perhaps Mace would mitigate-

“Most importantly,” Mace added, “find out who he’s working for.” Traitor. Obi-wan noticed that they’d said nothing about what Anakin was going to do, neither did they say a word about Senator Amidala. Obi-wan sensed a trap. _Spring the trap_ , Qui-gon’s voice whispered in his ear.

“What about Senator Amidala? She’ll still need protecting.” The trap was sprung, judging by the look on Mace’s face. Obi-wan hoped this wasn’t going to be what he thought it was going to be.

“ _Are they going to split us up_?” Anakin asked. Obi-wan sent reluctant confirmation back. Anakin responded with the mental equivalent of a sigh.

“Handle that, your padawan will.” Master Yoda said the words like they were final.

“Anakin,” Mace said before Obi-wan could interject, “escort the Senator back to her home planet of Naboo. She’ll be safer there. And don’t use registered transport. Travel as refugees.”

“ _As though I would do otherwise_ ,” Anakin remarked. Obi-wan used all his years-spent-listening-to-bantha-shit-excuses-from-Master-Jinn powers to keep a straight face and unruffled shields.

“As the leader of the opposition,” Anakin said aloud, “it will be very difficult to get Senator Amidala to leave the Capital.”

“You have some time before you need to leave.” Mace said. “The two of you will ask the Chancellor to convince her before you set off.” Obi-wan and Anakin bowed then left the chamber to head to their quarters.

“I don’t like this, Prof.” Anakin said, and Obi-wan knew he was thinking about the dream.

“I don’t either,” Obi-wan admitted, “but at least neither of us have to face the Chancellor alone.” He paused for a moment in thought. “This is also a test for you, I believe.”

“A test?” Anakin asked. He and Obi-wan sat on the worn couch. “Why a test? What for?”

“Perhaps to test your attachment to the Senator.” Obi-wan said. “Or, a test on how well you do on a mission by yourself. Or both.” Anakin shifted.

“They want to see whether I’ll choose Padme over the order,” Anakin said, “that’s probably mostly it.” Obi-wan nodded, and they lapsed into thoughtful silence.

“So what will you do?” Obi-wan asked after a while. Anakin tilted his head to rest on the back of the couch.

“Not choose Padme over the Order.” Anakin replied. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about that. I want us to be friends before anything else.” Obi-wan smiled.

“I think you’ll do just fine, Ani.” The smile he received from Anakin lit up the room.

&&&

The meeting with the Chancellor had been as tiring as always, and Obi-wan and Anakin had exchanged aggravated looks after they’d left the Rotunda. The Chancellor had spent the meeting categorically ignoring everything that Obi-wan said while attempting to cozy up (which was far weirder during the actual meeting than thinking back on it) to Anakin.

“I wondered,” Anakin said, beginning their traditional after-Chancellor exchange, “ _why_ you didn’t like politicians when they were so kind.”

“What changed your mind?”

“ _That_ sleemo.” They laughed, and the residual tension drained away. “Now we only need to tell T’la and the others.” Anakin said. Obi-wan stroked his beard and nodded.

“She isn’t going to be too happy with Mace and Eeth,” He said humorously, “she’d made them promise that this mission wasn’t going to send either of us off-planet, and yet both of us might just be headed off-planet anyway.” Anakin, certainly, if he was going to Naboo.

T’la didn’t like it. In fact, Anakin and Obi-wan watched with great interest as the Neti paced her quarters with the kind of urgency they’d only seen once before, when Zabu had been sent out on xer first mission as a Knight. Anakin had already changed into his travel-wear, a peasant outfit from the Outlands, and Obi-wan was in clean robes.

“I don’t believe it,” T’la said for the fifth time in as many minutes. “I don’t believe it.”

“What’s there to disbelieve?” Anakin asked, as cheeky as you please. Obi-wan snorted but sobered as he reached out with a tendril of Force and felt T’la’s panic that she was carefully covering with a mask of agitation.

“You’re leaving the planet.” T’la wrung her hands together and her face warped, seemed to melt slightly before snapping back to her humanoid face. Anakin felt tense sitting next to Obi-wan, though his lazy sprawl across his 2/3 of the couch would’ve suggested otherwise. “You’re leaving the planet,” T’la said again. Again, her face warped and snapped back.

“T’la,” Obi-wan said, keeping his voice steady and low while panic started to inch its way up his throat, “you’re panicking. Only Anakin is leaving.”

“No.” T’la said. She flapped her hands and sat in a chair. “No.”

“Is it the words?” Anakin asked. The teen had slumped further into the couch the second time T’la’s face had warped, and Obi-wan knew that he was a split-second away from dashing out the door to the Halls of Healing. Obi-wan subtly tapped his comm. Anakin relaxed. Message received, then.

“No.” T’la responded. “No, it’s not the words. It’s the _parallels_.” Her hair-roots curled, flexed, warped, returned to being hair-roots.

“Whatever this is,” Obi-wan said slowly, calmly, “it’s got you in a tizzy.”

“I’m just…remembering.” She said and creaked out a sigh. Her form shuddered and solidified. “Remembering the past, comparing to the present. I know the same thing won’t happen here, but it’s difficult sometimes, even after how many thousands of years.” Obi-wan nodded as Anakin kept a close eye on T’la’s form. It remained steady.

Obi-wan and Anakin exchanged looks as T’la stared through a wall. Obi-wan raised an eyebrow. Anakin frowned slightly and shook his head.

“The past isn’t something to dwell on,” T’la said, “there are times, however, when one is viscerally reminded of past trauma, even years beyond when the matter was thought to have been put to rest.” Her voice had steadied, Obi-wan was relieved to note. Equally relieving was how her form had been keeping steady since she had sat down.

“If you ever need to discuss anything,” Obi-wan said, “you know all of us would be there.” T’la wiped some sap from her eyes and nodded.

“Not right now, I think,” she said, “the memories need time to settle back.” T’la stood from her chair and smiled shakily at Obi-wan and Anakin. “I don’t like this at all, but needs must, I suppose.” She stretched her arms out in an invitation for a hug, which Obi-wan and Anakin practically leapt off the couch to give. Hugging T’la was a lot like hugging a tree: cool, tough, slightly rough, but something undeniably old and living stored away within the bark. The three stood in their embrace for as long as they could get away with before Obi-wan and Anakin had to take their leave.

T’la watched them leave with trepidation and something old and hollow in her gaze.

&&&

The spaceport was teeming with people of every walk of life as Obi-wan, Dorme, and Captain Typho stood with Anakin and Senator Amidala’s bags to see them off in their Transport bus. As the Senator and Dorme said their goodbyes and embraced each other tearfully (on Dorme’s part), Obi-wan and Anakin held their own farewells off to the side.

“Don’t do anything without first consulting myself or the Council, if I’m unavailable.” Obi-wan said. Anakin sighed but nodded. “Remember, this may be a test, but they won’t be expecting you to do this all on your own. Asking for help is its own form of wisdom.” Anakin smiled at that.

“So you’ve told me before, Prof,” he said. Anakin grasped Obi-wan’s hand in a mission-hug, but Obi-wan used that to pull his padawan – his _son_ – into an actual hug. “Obi?”

“T’la had a bad feeling at the start of all this,” Obi-wan murmured into Anakin’s shoulder, “you’ve been having nightmares.” Anakin clutched Obi-wan back and a slight tremble ran through his hands. “Stay safe, mo phàiste. Use only the secure comms, don’t leave Naboo unless absolutely necessary for the Senator’s protection.” Anakin nodded against Obi-wan’s shoulder and they finally separated. Obi-wan had been able to gather himself while speaking into Anakin’s shoulder and smiled at the Senator.

“I’ll get to the bottom of this plot quickly, m’lady,” Obi-wan said reassuringly, “you’ll be back here in no time.”

“I will be most grateful to your speed, master Jedi,” the Senator returned, tipping her head in a small bow. Anakin, meanwhile, had grabbed the trunks and slipped them on board the bus that would take them to their Starfreighter.

“Time to go,” Obi-wan’s padawan said from the door. The Senator nodded, and with one last kiss on the cheek for Dorme, slipped past Anakin into the depths of the bus.

“May the Force be with you, Anakin.” Obi-wan said. He tucked his hands into his sleeves and held tightly onto his elbows. Anakin nodded back, blue meeting silver.

“And with you, Prof.” The door closed and they were gone.

“No time at all,” Obi-wan said quietly, mind lingering on the look that T’la had given them as they’d left her quarters.

“Sorry?” Captain Typho glanced over at Obi-wan, who smiled back and shook his head.

“Nothing, nothing.”

&&&

The dart would be the key.

Obi-wan knew this like he knew the space between his shoes and the floor. The dart would be the key. But how to figure out where it came from? _He_ didn’t recognize it, and he knew a tad more about toxic darts than the average Jedi out of sheer self-preservation from the amount of times he’d been hit with one on missions. _Perhaps the archives_ , Obi-wan thought. A hint of agreement traveled down the bond between himself and Anakin. Obi-wan smiled. Distance didn’t seem to matter as much as they had feared. The archives it was.

_Everything is always so blue here_ , Obi-wan mused as he headed to the analysis consuls. A SP-4 analysis droid hummed awake when Obi-wan sat.

“Place the subject for analysis on the sensor tray, please,” the Droid said. Obi-wan followed the directions carefully. A screen lit up: state nature of inquiry.

“It’s a toxic dart,” Obi-wan said, “I need to know where it came from and who made it.”

“One moment please.” The humming began anew and continued for longer than Obi-wan had witnessed before. Concerning. The screen flashed through image after image, table after table, before the screen went dark.

“Markings cannot be identified,” the Droid reported, “As you can see on your screen,” the screen lit back up with information, “subject weapon does not exist in any known culture. Probably self-made by a warrior not associated with any known society. Stand away from the sensor tray, please.” Obi-wan did so in confusion.

“But the warrior in question was Mandalorian, were there no records from there?”

“Master Jedi, our records are very thorough,” if a droid could sound snooty, this one definitely did, “they cover eighty percent of the galaxy. If I can’t tell you where it came from, nobody can.” Obi-wan doubted that. The sensor tray slid back out and he carefully plucked the toxic dart from its surface.

“I know who can identify this,” Obi-wan said to himself as he walked away. His stomach rumbled its agreement.

Dex’s Diner. Obi-wan smiled at the sign. He hadn’t been back here in a few months. The last time, he and Anakin had been celebrating returning from one of the few missions they’d taken that hadn’t once gone sideways. As he approached the door, it slid open welcomingly and Obi-wan stepped inside, and a weight lifted itself off his shoulders. Hermione zoomed past him to deliver food to a table, then she doubled back to peer at him properly.

“Can I help ya?” She asked. Obi-wan smiled, amused that no matter how many times he came to the diner, she never seemed to remember any repeat customers. 

“I’m looking for Dexter,” Obi-wan replied, his amusement doubling when she approached him with a suspicious look in her visual receptors.

“Waddaya want him for?”

“He’s not in trouble,” Obi-wan said with a chuckle, “It’s personal.” The suspicion left her receptors with a blink and she swung around to face the back counter.

“Someone to see ya, honey,” she shouted out, and then muttered, almost too lowly for Obi-wan to hear, “a Jedi by the looks of him.” Obi-wan smiled as the kitchen door opened and steam billowed out in a cloud, releasing its grasp on his Besalisk friend.

“Obi-wan!” Dex cried out, shambling forward with all four of his arms thrown wide open. This was going to be a crushing hug, Obi-wan could tell already. He fiddled with the sleeves of his robe and felt his smile fade into a small grin.

“Hello, Dex.” The hug was enveloping and different from T’la’s hug. Dex was a giant, warm force that squeezed the person he was hugging as hard as he loved them. Obi-wan had always been subject to the hardest hugs that Dex could possibly give a human or near-human, and so Obi-wan wheezed happily as Dex attempted to crush the air from his lungs. The hug was nice, but so was being able to breath, darn it! Finally, Dex released Obi-wan and gestured to an empty booth, one that Obi-wan knew from experience held top-of-the-line jammers.

“Take a seat, I’ll be right with you.” Obi-wan nodded and headed to the seat, Hermione whizzing by to ask if he wanted the special caf blend that Dex’s was known for. Since that was the only type of caf that Obi-wan even remotely liked, he accepted, and she filled two mugs.

“Hey, ol’ buddy,” Dex said, beaming joyously as only Dex could as he slid into the seat opposite Obi-wan. Obi-wan smiled back. “What can I do for ya? And where’s the tyke?”

“Anakin’s off on his first solo-mission,” Obi-wan said, “and you could tell me what this is.” He slid the dart onto the table between himself and Dex. The Besalisk gingerly picked it up between two fingers and examined it closely.

“So, you’ll all be coming by for a celebration dinner when he gets back, eh?” Dex asked absently as he studied the grooves. Obi-wan nodded, and was about to say something when Dex let out an exclamation. “Well, whaddya know…”

“You know it, then.”

“Hmm…I ain’t seen one of these since I was prospecting on Subterrel beyond the Outer Rim.”

“Can you tell me where it came from?” Obi-wan leaned forward. Dex mirrored him and replaced the dart between them.

“This baby belongs to them cloners,” he said, “What you got here is a Kamino saberdart.” Obi-wan confessed to himself that he didn’t know what the Force Dex was talking about, but this was _exactly_ why he went to Dex.

“So why didn’t it show up in our analysis archive?” He’d asked this question mostly to himself, but Dex answered anyway.

“It’s the funny little cuts on the side that give it away, droids don’t think to notice those.”

“No, they focus on the symbols, and this has none.” Obi-wan said in agreement. There were limits to the coding in the archive droids, which was inconvenient at times, like now. “Kamino doesn’t sound familiar,” Obi-wan continued, “is it part of the Republic?”

“No, I’d say about twelve parsecs outside the Rishi Maze, towards the south.” Dex scratched his chin in thought. “It should be easy to find. The Kaminoans keep to themselves. They’re damn good cloners.”

“Are they friendly?” Obi-wan asked as he tucked the dart back into its protective case and then back into his pocket. What he _meant_ was ‘will they try and kill me?’

“It depends,” Dex answered.

“On what, Dex?”

“On how good your manners are,” Dex grinned at Obi-wan, “and how big your pocketbook is.” Manners, Obi-wan had down. Credits? Well, he would have to see. He and Dex made some chatting small-talk as they sipped their caf before Dex needed to return to his post.

“Don’t try and slip any credits onto the table, Obi,” Dex shook his finger in Obi-wan’s direction, “I’m watching you!” Obi-wan chuckled and finished his drink.

“Thank you, Hermione,” he said to the droid as she cleared his table.

“Come again, honey,” she replied.

&&&

Master Dooku. Obi-wan stared at his Grandmaster’s statue as he waited for Master Nu. He’d searched for the Kamino system in the area that Dex had pointed out, but had found nothing. If Master Nu couldn’t find it, then Obi-wan would have to go to Master Yoda.

Master Dooku stared imperiously down at Obi-wan from his perch. He’d left the Order before Qui-gon’s death, and Obi-wan had never met the man. He did, however, know about him from Feemor’s stories. Prideful, Feemor called him, prideful and used to the niceties of life. A Count by birth. The similarities to Xanatos were not lost on Obi-wan. Would this be what Xanatos could have had, had the darksider not fallen?

“Did you call for assistance?” Obi-wan had to stop himself from jumping or shrieking. Or both. Anakin felt his shock and sent amusement down their bond. Obi-wan responded with annoyance.

“Yes…yes I did.” He turned away from the statue of Dooku and smiled at the Master of the Archives. “I’m trying to find a planet system called Kamino, but I’m not able to find it on any of the Archive charts.” Master Nu hummed and examined the screen Obi-wan had led her to.

“Are you sure you have the right coordinates?” She typed something on the keyboard and the map zoomed back out to the entire galaxy. Coordinates…Dex didn’t _give_ coordinates, Dex gave directions. Turn left at the fifth star to your right, when you see the pink asteroid belt, your destination will be on the left, and all that.

“It should be in this quadrant somewhere,” Obi-wan pointed to the area that Dex had told him Kamino would be in, “just south of the Rishi Maze.”

“No coordinates?” Master Nu sounded a tad aggravated. “It sounds like the sort of directions you’d get from a street tout. Some old minor or Furbog trader, perhaps.” Obi-wan hid a smile.

“All three, actually.” He said, and gained an absolutely scathing look from the Head Archivist. Ah, that never failed to make him feel like he was four years old. The _nostalgia_. 

“Are you sure it exists?”

“Absolutely.” Obi-wan didn’t explain further. The Council had told him to keep the number of people who knew to a bare minimum. Master Nu examined his face piercingly before turning back to the consul.

“Let me do a gravitational scan.” She and Obi-wan stared at the results. “There’s some inconsistencies here,” she pointed where Obi-wan had been searching before. He hadn’t noticed that. “Maybe the planet you’re seeking was destroyed.” No, likely not…

“Ah well, thank you, Master Nu.” She huffed and nodded, standing when a young child – a padawan, judging by the silka beads – called for her help at a nearby consul. _I suppose I’ll have to ask Yoda_ , Obi-wan thought. He left the archives. _Now, I know he’s usually with the initiates this time of day, I just have to remember which clan_ …

The training rooms, perhaps? Obi-wan opened his mind to the Force and allowed it to guide his feet. The training rooms. He smiled as he heard the voice of his great grandmaster instructing the young initiates in the ways of the Force. Today, it seemed they were practicing how to trust the Force without the use of their eyes. Obi-wan stood quietly in the doorway and waited for Master Yoda to find a good stopping point.

“Younglings, enough. A visitor we have. Welcome him.” Master Yoda grinned mischievously at Obi-wan as the younglings bowed to him.

“I’m sorry to disturb you all,” Obi-wan said, bowing back to the younglings. They giggled.

“What help to you, can we be?” Master Yoda tapped his gimer stick on the floor curiously as Obi-wan held up a star map.

“I’m looking for a planet described to me by a friend. I trust him, but the system doesn’t show up on the archive maps.”

“Lost a _planet_ , Master Obi-wan has. How embarrassing…” Master Yoda shook his head in mock-solemness as the younglings giggled some more. “How embarrassing. Liam, the shades.” A young Zabrac skipped over to the windows and pressed the panel that would lower the shades on the windows. “An interesting puzzle. Gather, younglings, around the map reader. Clear your minds and find Obi-wan’s wayward planet, we will.”

Finding the planet took not as much time as Obi-wan had thought, with the ingenuity of the Hothcat clan to back him up. One of the younglings, Jack, had been able to surmise that the reason the planet wasn’t in the archives was because someone had erased the planet, and May – another youngling – had pointed out that the planet had to be there, because if the planet had exploded, then the gravity would also disappear.

“They have such clear sight,” Obi-wan said as he and Master Yoda left the training room.

“The mind of a child, amazing, is, yes.” Master Yoda cackled in agreement. “Go you, to the center of this disturbance, and find your planet, you will.” Master Yoda stopped and looked up at Obi-wan, who crouched at the unspoken request. The old Master placed a clawed hand on Obi-wan’s shoulder.

“Dangerous and disturbing, this puzzle is.” Master Yoda frowned. “Only a Jedi could have erased those files. But who and why, harder to answer. Meditate on this, I will. May the Force be with you.”

“And with you, Master.”

Obi-wan had to let the others know he was leaving.

As expected, they didn’t like it at all. After some rushed goodbyes and another hug from T’la, Obi-wan and R4 entered his fighter and set their coordinates for Kamino. The Force whispered the simultaneous rightness and wrongness of the move.

“Well, R4,” Obi-wan said with a sigh, “I have a bad feeling about this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The DRESS that Padme and Dorme are wearing: Chana Marelus, Fall/Winter 2017-18, 8th dress down named Yael


	4. Man was born as a joke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> KamiNO (this is what I was going to name the chapter first, and then decided not to)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is...the moment you've all been waiting for...Jango and Obi-wan meet face to face once more! :DDDD
> 
> I hope you like it! ~Rozu_chan

The first thing that Obi-wan noticed about Kamino was that it was _wet_. Even descending in his fighter, the rain was pelting his transport with a vengeance, creating a _hsssssh_ sound that was so loud he could barely hear R4.

“What?” He asked his loyal droid. “I couldn’t hear you.” Obi-wan switched on the binary-to-common function on his control panel. **The wet is not oil. I do not like it**. Obi-wan laughed. “I don’t either, R4.” **You are insane for wanting to go out in this. Your processors will malfunction**. “I won’t get sick, R4. I’ll just be taking a quick look around, hopefully inside.”

The combined attack of the wind and rain on their small craft made flying through the atmosphere of Kamino a tad difficult, but eventually, Obi-wan and R4 landed safely on the flight deck of a floating city. Obi-wan sat in the cockpit for a moment and stared.

“How very high tech.” He said, “It looks expensive, R4.” She beeped in agreement, and Obi-wan exited his fighter. He was immediately soaked. “Sithing hells,” Obi-wan muttered as he pulled up his hood. R4 whistled an I-told-you-so that Obi-wan elected to ignore.

He didn’t run, since Jedi _don’t run_ , but he did increase his walking speed slightly. The wind tried to pick him up from the flight deck as he walked towards the doors but miraculously Obi-wan was able to keep his footing, though he did stumble through the doors as they slid open. His vision blurred as – for a small moment – water cascaded from the lip of his hood to obscure his vision. Obi-wan waited until the water was only dripping before peeling the hood back from his head. He was already soaked, he didn’t need _more_ water in his hair on top of that, or he would prove R4 right.

He was met with the sight of someone who looked remarkably akin to the late Master Yarael Poof. There were some key differences: this…Kaminoan…and Master Poof had slightly different ocular structures and eye colors, and the Kaminoan who was currently examining Obi-wan in return like he was some kind of experiment (Obi-wan held back a shudder) had three fingers instead of five. Obi-wan didn’t particularly enjoy the feeling he was getting from the Kaminoan.

“Welcome to Tipoca City, Master Jedi,” the Kaminoan said in a melodic voice, and bowed their head gracefully. Obi-wan bowed back in slight confusion. Sure, the robes were mostly worn by Jedi, but that didn’t mean they were _only_ worn be Jedi, especially in the Outer Rim. “Everything is ready,” they said, “the Prime Minister is expecting you.” _Oh dear_ , Obi-wan thought. He shivered, and not entirely from cold.

“I’m expected?” He asked, staring warily up at the Kaminoan, who had turned slightly and was gesturing to a hallway. Obi-wan blinked water from his eyes as the Kaminoan replied.

“Of course! He is anxious to see you.” _I’m anxious to not be here_. “After all these years, we were beginning to think you weren’t coming.” The Kaminoan gestured again to the hall, and Obi-wan really, truly couldn’t tell if they were impatient or not. “Now please, this way.” Obi-wan followed, despite the itchy feeling he was getting. The feeling wasn’t a _bad_ one, more of a waiting one.

The hall was white, sterile, and impersonal. Twice when traversing the halls, Obi-wan tried to engage Taun We – as the Kaminoan had introduced themselves – in conversation, only to be politely rebuffed. Any answers would have to come from the Prime Minister, Obi-wan realized. There were windows in the hallways, but those were whited out so that Obi-wan couldn’t see what was on the other side. He shivered again. This felt like the beginning of one of those holo-horror-vids that Quinlan had introduced Ani to when he was 12. Perhaps he should have heeded that bad feeling.

Finally, after the long, white hallway, Taun We led Obi-wan to a door, which opened to show – _much_ to Obi-wan’s _surprise_ – another white room, but in the middle of _this_ room was an egg-like chair with another Kaminoan – Obi-wan assumed this was the Prime Minister – who looked up the moment Obi-wan entered the room with Taun We taking up a position behind him that had the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

“May I present Lama Su,” Taun We said with another graceful gesture, “Prime Minister of Kamino. And this is Master Jedi…”

“Obi-wan Kenobi,” Obi-wan said with a bow, just deep enough for a Prime Minister. Lama Su bowed their head back at Obi-wan, then gestured – again, gracefully – at a seat, which was also white and egg shaped. Obi-wan didn’t want to sit in it. Obi-wan sat.

“I trust you are going to enjoy your stay,” Lama Su said. If the alarm bells hadn’t already been ringing in Obi-wan’s head, they certainly were now. “We are most happy you’ve arrived at the best part of the season.” Obi-wan thought of the way the wind had tried to knock him off the platform and internally winced. Good timing indeed.

“You make me feel most welcome,” Obi-wan said in return. He said nothing about how he thought this place could use a bit more color than white and the occasional cold blue.

“And now to business,” Lama Su said. _What a non-sequiter_ , Obi-wan thought. “You will be delighted to hear we are on schedule.” _On schedule for what?_ “Two hundred thousand units are ready, with another million well on the way.” Obi-wan was about to express his confusion when the Force jabbed Obi-wan in warning. _Play along_ , was the feeling Obi-wan interpreted from that jab. Very well, then.

“That is…” Obi-wan cast his brain about for an answer, “good news.” He kept his face Jedi-calm while internally he panicked. What in the name of the _Force_ was happening? Luckily, Lama Su didn’t seem to pick up on Obi-wan’s complete obliviousness to whatever the Prime Minister was talking about.

“Please tell your Master Sifo-Dyas that we have every confidence his order will be met on time and in full. He is well, I hope.” For a second, Obi-wan could only hear white-noise.

“I’m sorry.” Perhaps Obi-wan had heard that wrong. “Master…”

“Jedi Master Sifo-Dyas.” _Yes, that’s what I_ thought _you said_. “He’s still a leading member of the Jedi Council, is he not?”

“Oh yes,” Obi-wan said, while racking his brain trying to remember _why_ that name was so familiar, “Sifo-Dyas.”

“You must be anxious to inspect the units for yourself.” Lama Su stood – gracefully, very gracefully – from his seat. Obi-wan was more anxious to leave this place that was by now giving him the creeps, but he was on a mission. Unless the feeling was _bad_ bad, he had to follow through. In fact, even _if_ the feeling was bad, he had to follow through. Obi-wan stood with a smile that felt as fake as it probably looked.

“It’s…why I’m here.” He said. As the three walked through the white, white halls, Obi-wan sank into a partial meditation to try and reach Anakin through their bond. Calm inactivity. His padawan was sleeping. Obi-wan withdrew from the bond with a small smile, feeling more relaxed. They exited onto a balcony, and Obi-wan was hit with the bludgeon-force of the Force _screaming_ ‘WRONG! WRONG!’ Obi-wan blinked, and a headache started to form as he laboriously lifted ironclad shields and gazed out over rows of…soldiers. Clones. “ _They’re damn good cloners_ ,” Dex’s voice rang in Obi-wan’s mind. Clones…of who? He peered down at the clones and dropped his shields slightly, just to feel their force signature. As he did so, he met the eyes of one. From a distance, Obi-wan couldn’t make the color out very well, but he didn’t need to. Now that the clone was looking at Obi-wan head-on, he recognized that face. The Mand’alor. Jango Fett.

“ _Osik_ ,” Obi-wan said under his breath, keeping his gaze locked with the clone, who was looking back with guarded curiosity. Obi-wan felt out for the signatures. None of them felt like Jango. Sure, all of them felt similar, but only in the way that close siblings did, or twins. The air was ripe with professionalism stained with fear. _What in the Sithing hells does Jango think he’s doing_? In the background, Obi-wan could hear Lama Su talking about the genetic coding of the clones and independence in a way that made Obi-wan’s stomach curl. _I have to know_. He had to play it safe.

“Who was the original host?”

“A bounty hunter called Jango Fett.” _No_. “We felt a Jedi would be the perfect choice, but Sifo-Dyas hand-picked Jango Fett himself.” _I truly did_ not _wish for that to be confirmed. That karking_ idiot _._

“Where is this…” Obi-wan forced his mouth to form words other than ‘mand’alor’ “bounty hunter, now?”

“You are in luck. He is currently in residence,” Lama Su said, “We would usually prefer to keep him here, but he’s been adamant lately about traveling outside of the planet more. You see, after a few hundred clones, the genetic pattern starts to fade, so we take a fresh supply.”

“I see.” Obi-wan had to tear his gaze away from the clone’s when Lama Su started to walk away. In another window, a clone climbed into a transparent tube and went to sleep. Lama Su talked about a child that Jango wanted. Obi-wan concentrated on not becoming ill. Their faces were all the same, but they were oh- _so_ different in the force, in their _souls_ , that Obi-wan was becoming dizzy with the juxtaposition. 

“I would like to meet with Jango Fett,” Obi-wan said.

“I would be most happy to arrange it for you.” Obi-wan nearly jumped when Taun We spoke, having forgotten the existence of the other Kaminoan. Obi-wan bowed his head in thanks, and Taun We swayed off…gracefully. Obi-wan was becoming tired of people doing things gracefully. Obi-wan and Lama Su continued on.

“You mentioned growth acceleration…” Obi-wan stared at a classroom of _younglings_. Hmm. Jango was cute when he was a kid. That was something to tease him about, at least. After he’d yelled at the man for being an idiot, of course.

“Oh yes, it’s essential.” _Is it_. “Otherwise, a mature clone would take a lifetime to grow. Now, we can do it in half the time.” Obi-wan’s brain fizzed out when Lama Su called the clones that he’d seen in the first window ‘items.’ Anger was broiling somewhere in the vicinity of his gut, and Obi-wan stamped it out. Now was very much _not_ the time.

“And them?” He stared at the ten-year-old younglings.

“About five years ago.” Obi-wan wanted to hit something. Someone. Jango, maybe. No, _definitely_ Jango. Another window, another knot in Obi-wan’s stomach. Babies. Embryos. Everything was so…clinical and impersonal. He had yet to see a smile on a single one of the clone’s faces.

“When…Master Sifo-Dyas…first contacted you,” Obi-wan said slowly, carefully, “did he say the order was for…himself? Or…” He kept his eyes locked on an embryo to his right so he didn’t follow through with his urge to verbally eviscerate the Prime Minister. He was using all of his negotiating skills to do so, all of the tricks that Qui-gon had taught him and Obi-wan had honed. They were almost not enough.

“Himself?” Lama Su had the gall to sound surprised. “Of course not. This army is for the Republic!” Well, _that_ certainly short-circuited Obi-wan’s brain.

“The Republic?” The question just about _burst_ from Obi-wan’s lips before he could stop it. He reached out to the Force, which was being frustratingly silent on the matter. His eyes involuntarily shot away from the embryo and to Lama Su’s eyes. The Kaminoan blinked gracefully.

“We are _also_ very much against this Count Dooku and his secessionist movement.” Lama Su said. Obi-wan was very much confused. “We are proud to be of help to the Republic.” Scratch confused, Obi-wan was alarmed. He could to nothing but smile and assure Lama Su that the Republic was sure to appreciate the Kaminoan’s contribution to their…efforts…before Taun We sailed back to their sides with an odd look on their face. Not that Obi-wan could tell that the look on their face was _odd_ in any way, but it was a decidedly different look from the normal face he’d seen thus far.

“Jango Fett will see you now.” _How magnanimous of him_ , Obi-wan thought. He bowed first to Lama Su, and then less deeply to Taun We, who escorted him away. More white hallways and doors, Taun We pressed a button by one of the doors, and it slid open to reveal a child.

“Boba, is your father in?” Boba gave Taun We a strange look before nodding. “May we see him?” Boba’s gaze slid to Obi-wan, and he nodded again.

“Sure.” The boy stepped aside for Obi-wan and Taun We. Obi-wan was still dripping water, just a bit. He refused to feel guilty about that, since he had decided he was angry with Jango. This set of rooms was also white, but there was some color added, luckily enough, to make the place look lived in. Another door slid open. Jango. He and Obi-wan locked eyes, and Obi-wan read amusement in the mand’alor’s expression. Obi-wan was _not_ amused.

“Welcome back, Jango,” Taun We said, “was your trip productive?” Perhaps Taun We could feel the pressure in the room and wanted to break the ice.

“Fairly.” Jango answered, wiping his hands in a cloth. Obi-wan scowled, and Jango grinned back. Trip. Productive. That Mandalorian he’d seen. Sithing hells. “We already know each other, Taun We,” Jango said before the Kaminoan could introduce Obi-wan, “and we need to talk about something. Don’t worry, we won’t gut each other here.” The Kaminoan faltered before exiting the rooms gracefully.

“That bounty-hunter on Coruscant.” Obi-wan said as the door slid shut. Jango smirked. “Why?”

“Part of this,” Jango gestured to the ceiling. That hand gesture also meant they were being listened to. Obi-wan muttered some explicatives under his breath which had Jango tut in disapproval. “I thought you Jedi were supposed to be good with children.”

“You know I’m good with children, Jango.” Obi-wan replied drily. “You’ve _seen_ me be good with children.” Jango merely snorted and motioned Obi-wan into another room. When the door opened, Obi-wan began to salivate automatically as the smell of tiingilar permeated the air.

“Good _hetikles_ already,” Obi-wan said, much to Jango’s pleasure, obviously, as the bounty-hunter turned mand’alor grinned at him.

“That’s because you’ve gone soft on Coruscant,” Jango said, “no spices from Mandalor that taste the same.” The three sat at the cramped table and dug in. While Obi-wan was still angry at Jango, every good _mando’ade_ knew that meal-time was neutral territory. The tiingilar certainly was _hetikles_ , and Obi-wan was glad that he’d gotten into the habit since his mission while he was a padawan to keep adding Mandalor-level spice to his food, because he was able to keep up with his two hosts while managing to not cry from the heat.

“So, are you?” Boba asked when they’d busted their plates and were sitting at the table nursing some shig. Obi-wan looked at the youngling quizzically. “Are you gonna gut each other?” Jango snorted into his cup and hummed. Obi-wan sat back and smiled at the young boy in the most enigmatic way he knew how.

“ _Gar buir ni skana’din_.” Obi-wan said. “ _Al’ni na’kyr’amyr kaysh_ _._ ” Boba stared at Obi-wan with wide eyes. Evidently, Jango hadn’t told him that there was a Jedi who knew _mando’a_.

“I will kill _him_ , though.” Jango said, pointing at Obi-wan. He had such a stern look on his face that Obi-wan had to hold back a laugh. Boba didn’t. His delighted peals of laughter rang through the room as Jango slipped a jammer out of his pocket and stealthily attached the device under the table. _Camera_ , Jango signed to Obi-wan, _left corner_. Obi-wan flicked his fingers back in acknowledgement out of sight of the camera, then tilted his head so the bug couldn’t see his lips.

“Why the Senator?” Obi-wan asked. “Why _this_?” Jango shifted in his seat, and Obi-wan was perturbed to note that the Mand’alor seemed to be uncomfortable and wasn’t meeting Obi-wan’s eyes.

“I was…chosen,” Jango began carefully, “right before that whole mess with Naboo and the Trade Federation.” Obi-wan purposefully relaxed back into his seat and kept his hands visible. Jango relaxed some in return, and Boba refilled their cups with more shig. “As you know, I didn’t think very highly of _Jetti_.” Obi-wan nodded.

“Understandable.”

“Now see,” Jango gave Obi-wan an exasperated (for Jango) look, “ _that_ is exactly the kind of thing that ticks me off.” Obi-wan shrugged and smiled enigmatically. “So, when this cloaked figure shows up while I’m hunting the Bando Gora-“

“That _Bando Gora_?”

“Yes, let me finish.” Obi-wan sat back in his chair from where he’d leapt forward in astonishment and waved his hand for Jango to continue. “When they offered me _waadas_ in return for being a genetic template, I accepted.”

“What does this have to do with hating Jedi?”

“Everything.” Jango looked into Obi-wan’s eyes seriously. Perhaps more seriously than the tenth time he’d told Obi-wan he would kill him the next time they met. Obi-wan stared his friend in the eyes and tried to convey that he was ready for whatever would come next. He wasn’t. He _really_ wasn’t, because he could tell that Jango was holding the worst parts back, and that scared Obi-wan.

&&&

In Obi-wan’s quarters, where Boba had escorted Obi-wan to – they were the rooms next to his and Jango’s – Obi-wan sat on his bed with his head in his hands. He’d mechanically checked the room for bugs, and had thankfully found none, but had turned a jammer on anyway, just to be safe. Jango’s words roiled in Obi-wan’s mind, refusing to settle. “ _They wanted to make an army that the Jedi would lead. I don’t know to what end. They wouldn’t tell me. But I don’t think they’d choose_ me _, known Jedi-killer, for shits and giggles. There’s something off about this I didn’t notice until our fifteenth meeting._ ”

Their fifteenth meeting. The meeting when Jango had decided that Obi-wan was _aliit_ , _vod_. The meeting when Jango had stopped telling Obi-wan that Jango would kill him the next time they met. The meeting where Obi-wan had almost died to protect Jango. That had been a meeting of realizations: that Jango was rightful Mand’alor, that Jango didn’t hate Obi-wan and in fact wanted to be friends. More than that, to be _family, siblings_ in all but blood. Obi-wan let out a rough sigh and drew out his comm-unit.

“R4?” He hoped the winds had died down enough that the signal would go through. “R4?” A beep of acknowledgement. Good. “R4, relay this: ‘scramble code five’ to Coruscant, care of ‘the old folk’s home.’” Why Anakin had sliced into the codes to make _that_ phrase the name of the temple, Obi-wan still had no idea, but no one had been able to change it back, so far. R4 whistled in assent and began her sequences.

“Obi-wan.” It was Mace. Master Yoda was there too. Obi-wan stood to deliver his message.

“There is a clone army here, ordered for the Republic by Jedi Master Sifo-Dyas. The genetic template, Jango Fett, believes that there’s more to this than we know. Additionally, though I have reason to believe that he’s the assassin, I also am well aware of his talents. If he wanted the Senator dead, she would be dead.” Mace had adopted his usual thinking posture. “I can’t remember where I’ve heard of Master Sifo-Dyas before,” Obi-wan admitted. Master Yoda hummed.

“A Master on the Council, he was, before his disappearance.” Obi-wan frowned.

“How long ago was that?”

“That was the year of Naboo.” Mace replied. Obi-wan stiffened. “What is it?”

“That was around the time everything was started here.”

“A mystery, this is.” Master Yoda said. “Find who Fett is working for, you must.”

“I will, Master,” Obi-wan said, “and I will also find out more about this clone army. May the Force-“ Obi-wan was cut off by the holo-call blinking out. “Interesting reception,” Obi-wan commented to R4, who twittered back in amusement. “Yes, I know, you did a splendid job keeping the connection going for _that_ long.” A self-satisfied whistle. Obi-wan chuckled. “I suppose I’ll take Jango’s advice and ask to speak with the leaders of the clones. I suppose they have titles.” R4 beeped and whistled about how flesh-people were strange and then bid him a good stand-by.

“Have a good stand-by, R4.” Obi-wan folded into a meditation position and closed his eyes.

&&&

Setting up a meeting with the leaders of the clones was far more difficult than Obi-wan had dreamed it would be. First, he was introduced to the Cuy’val Dar – or rather, the members that Jango knew weren’t going to kill Obi-wan on sight – and then Obi-wan was reintroduced to Jango (by Taun We, no less) before the Mand’alor stepped in and restated Obi-wan’s request to meet with the _clone_ leaders: to which Obi-wan had been told only a few were available from a few different batches, one of which would be from the Alpha batch. Obi-wan just nodded and pretended to know what any of those words meant, though he could guess through context and prior experience with military structures.

They entered another room – white, as seemed to be the norm on Kamino – where there were sixteen clones, standing tall. One was slightly older – more like Jango’s age – than the other fifteen, and through previous discussion with Jango, Obi-wan discerned that this must be one of the commanders of the Alpha batch.

“Hello,” Obi-wan said, bowing, “my name is Obi-wan Kenobi.” The Kaminoans had filed out when Jango had given them a stink-eye. The Mand’alor made eye-contact with the older clone and tapped one of the functions on his _kom’rk_.

“Alpha-17, sir.” And down the line the introductions went. All numbers. All the same face, but with different force-signatures.

“CC-1138, sir.”

“CC-5052, sir.”

“CC-3714, sir.”

“CC-1004, sir.”

“CC-1010, sir.”

“CC-1993, sir.”

“CC-4142, sir.”

“CC-8826, sir.”

“CC-6454, sir.”

“CC-5869, sir.”

“CC-4477, sir.”

“CC-3636, sir.”

“CC-1119, sir.”

“CC-5576, sir.”

“CC-2224, sir.” This last one was the one who Obi-wan had locked eyes with the other day. Obi-wan dearly wanted to ask if they had any names and looked at Jango.

“I’m jamming any listening devices.” Jango was in full _beskar’gam_ , so Obi-wan couldn’t see what expression he had on his face, but he sensed surprise from the clones before they (rather impressively) tamped it down with professionalism. Obi-wan turned and locked eyes with each clone.

“Do you have any chosen names you would be comfortable sharing?” Obi-wan wasn’t surprised that they were surprised, but he was sad. Also, just…just a _tad_ angry with Jango, though he knew that his _vod_ couldn’t do much of anything, with all of the Kaminoans watching, as Jango had explained the precious evening. Not that Jango seemed to care as much about the clones as he did about Boba. Just another thing to be mildly angry with Jango about. The clones were exchanging side glances with each other, and then Alpha-17 stepped forward and regarded Obi-wan with an almost acerbic look that was _just_ on the side of professional. Behind that, though, Obi-wan could see a hint of almost-respect. 

“Just call me Alpha,” he said gruffly. Obi-wan bowed.

“Greetings, Alpha.” The clone shuffled back and the next one stood forward.

“Ah, I’m Bacara, sir.” And so the rest continued: Bly, Fil, CC-1004 and 1010 didn’t have names yet, Jet, Lock, CC-8826 also didn’t have a name yet, Ponds, Stone, Thire, Wolffe, CC-1119 didn’t have a name yet, Gregor, and Cody. Cody seemed to be Jango’s favorite, though that wasn’t saying much. Jango’s force-signature – or what Obi-wan could read from it through the _beskar_ – held a certain amount of disinterest and a small amount of disdain for all the clones. But yes, there was some pride that was threaded through those emotions when Cody had introduced himself. Obi-wan held himself back from smacking Jango. The effort would only hurt his hand.

Obi-wan questioned them some on life on Kamino, their interests, and other activities that only made him surer that these clones were individual people and not ‘units’ or ‘items’ like the Kaminoans had been referring to them as. Jango chimed in from time to time, mainly to clarify something that the clones had said. Obi-wan had to reluctantly admit to himself (not aloud, _never_ aloud) that he was the best person in the order to have been sent to Kamino. Officially, Obi-wan was the only Jedi in the order currently living in the Temple (Master Fay was not included) that had relatively recently been a leader in a war and had experience leading troops. Otherwise, most of the terminology being used would have been lost on him. Some of it still was.

“Have you any questions for me?” Obi-wan asked after an hour or two. All parties had graduated to sitting cross-legged on the floor the first hour, once they’d all realized that this question-session was going to be taking quite a bit longer than they had thought. Obi-wan was constantly finding himself dismayed at the number of times a question after their well-being and that of their _vode_ created looks of surprise and sometimes suspicion (especially on the part of Alpha) on the Commander’s faces. Which were all Jango’s faces. Okay, so Obi-wan wasn’t _quite_ over that particular fact, but who could blame him? Definitely not _Jango_. That infuriating _di’kut_ didn’t have a leg to stand on.

“Are we going to be used soon?” Alpha asked. He was – consistently – the most blunt and gruff of the group, though Wolffe came in a close second with CC-1010 closely following. Obi-wan had to think about that.

“I am not, in this case, a representative of the Republic,” Obi-wan said slowly, “I was sent here nominally to ascertain who the person intending to assassinate Senator Amidala was, as well as who their employer was, if possible. _Not_ to suss out the suitability of an army who’s existence we knew nothing of in the first place.” This last sentence was barbed and directed mostly to the side of Jango’s _buy’ce_. Jango crossed his arms and turned his head away from Obi-wan. Obi-wan muttered something unpleasant about Jango, which had Alpha snorting while looking surprised at his snort.

“I didn’t know Jedi cursed,” he said. While the way it was said was more a statement than a question, Obi-wan took it as the latter.

“Oh, we do,” he said, “we just mainly curse on the inside.” Jango elbowed him. “Unless we have to deal with someone like Jango.” Obi-wan amended. This earned him another elbow.

“I’ve heard you curse about more than just a person being annoying. Remember on Dantooine-“

“Yes, yes, that’s enough, I think.” Obi-wan waved Jango off the topic and turned back to the clones, who were impressively holding their sabacc-faces though Obi-wan could feel their amusement in the Force. “Any other questions?”

“What are the Jedi like in battle?” That question came from Fil, one of the more serious _vode_. Obi-wan wanted to protest that the Jedi were peacekeepers and that hopefully there would be no battles in the foreseeable future, but he knew that the Commanders would need some hope, as slim as that hope may be.

“While Jedi are peacekeepers first and foremost,” Obi-wan said, “I would say that in battle, they are far more used to acting as an individual or with one or two partners rather than leading troops.”

“They?” Ah, Cody. Obi-wan could see why he was Jango’s favorite. Obi-wan smiled.

“My lineage tends to have more…experience…in battle than other Jedi do,” Obi-wan tried to explain, “We either have the worst or best luck in the galaxy.”

“Lineage?” Wolffe looked interested in this. An _aliit_ oriented person, then?

“For Jedi, we are usually brought to the various temples at rather young ages,” Obi-wan said, “As such, we grow up without having a family other than those who are at the temple. A Master-Padawan pairing is generally equated to that of Parent-Child, and the lineage consists of all those who were taught and who taught who are still living. For example, while _my_ Master has become one with the Force, my Grandmaster and Great-grandmaster are still living, as is one of my brother Padawans, and I am currently teaching Anakin, who is the newest in our line.” Obi-wan could almost see the word ‘fascinating’ scrolling behind Wolffe’s eyes. He thought the clone would get along well with T’la or Master Koon.

Eventually, after more discussion and ribbing (mainly on the part of Jango), Obi-wan and Jango took leave of the Commanders, who likewise returned to their _vode_.

“You want to say something,” Jango said, “ _sirbur’galar bic_.” Obi-wan tapped his forearm. Jango nodded.

“Where?”

“Geonosis.” Jango hadn’t said a word about where his employer was the previous evening. Obi-wan had wondered why, at the time, but now he knew. Jango had wanted Obi-wan to meet the _vode_ , to form bonds with them, and damn if it wasn’t working. Obi-wan spun to face Jango head-on. Jango kept facing down the hall. Guilt.

“Who?” This was another piece of information that Jango hadn’t talked about the previous evening.

“He called himself Darth Tyranus.” A chill ran down Obi-wan’s spine. Darth? Maul’s face shot forward in Obi-wan’s mind and hung there like a specter.

“ _Dar’jetti_?” Obi-wan asked quietly. _Please say no_. Jango’s hesitation was an answer in and of itself. “ _Osik_.” Jango tapped his wrist, and they continued through the halls as Obi-wan ruminated on this new piece of information. A Sith. A _Sith_. Maul must have been the apprentice. Or at least _one_ apprentice. Who said that the Sith was following Darth Bane’s teachings? A Sith had ordered the clone army, saying that the army was for the Republic. The _vode_ themselves had said that they had been _made_ for the Jedi. For what? Obi-wan and Jango arrived at the doors to the landing-platform, where Lama Su and Taun We were waiting for them.

“Tell your council the first battalions are ready,” Lama Su said, “And remind them that if they need more troops, we will need time to grow them.” Obi-wan forced a smile and bowed as shallowly as he could get away with.

“I won’t forget,” Obi-wan said. He and Jango headed out into the squall. R4 whistled when Obi-wan and Jango approached and opened the hatch to the fighter. Obi-wan smoothly climbed up and in, then looked over the side at Jango.

“ _Ulych_ , Obi-wan,” Jango said, “ _Partaylir, ib’tuur jatne tuur ash’ad kyr’amur_.”

“ _Ret’urcye mhi_ , Jango.” Obi-wan said with a nod. As the hatch closed, Obi-wan heard Jango repeat the words and the Mand’alor stood back.

As Obi-wan and R4 lifted off from the platform, Obi-wan could see the silhouette of his _vod_ watching them back. Obi-wan wondered what he was thinking.

“Set a course to Geonosis, R4.”

&&&

“A clone army.” T’la stared at the middle-distance.

“On Kamino.” Eeth was likewise staring at the middle-distance in the same direction. Perhaps it was the same middle-distance. Mace wondered – and not for the first time – if that was a trait of their lineage, or if the two were simply that similar. “A planet that was wiped from the archives.”

“From the _archives_.” T’la’s repetition made Mace think that he broke his friends. He eyed T’la carefully. She’d already been a tad mercurial after the surprise mission for Obi-wan and Anakin, and their leaving the planet only made that worse.

“Yes, from the archives,” Mace said, “Obi-wan is currently looking into who may have purchased the clones in the first place. The _Council_ certainly didn’t.”

“Master Sifo-Dyas, it was.” Master Yoda said. T’la hummed contemplatively.

“He was the one with all those visions.” T’la twirled her stylus in her hand. “I remember him, he was good friends with Yan Dooku and Jocasta Nu. They made quite the trio of miscreants.”

“Yes, remember that, I do.” Yoda chuckled nostalgically. “Before my padawan became so serious, that was.” T’la sighed.

“If only _Eeth_ hadn’t become so serious,” she said.

“Hey now,” Eeth said flatly, not in the least bit offended. Mace and Yoda laughed along with T’la, and Eeth eventually joined in.

“That being said,” T’la said after a moment, “an _army_ for the Republic. Right on the eve of a motion that could allow for a standing army, and the key opposition is off-planet. This is _not_ a coincidence. This is something Dark.”

“Wait and see, we shall,” Yoda said. T’la stared at the younger Master for a minute, face absolutely painted with exasperation.

“Gather more information, we should,” she mimicked. “ _Then_ , wait and see, we shall.” Yoda scoffed before relenting.

Eeth and Mace left T’la’s rooms to find Adi and head to the Rotunda to do some sleuthing, leaving T’la and Yoda to gripe like the old people they were.

“I always forget that T’la is older than Yoda,” Mace said with a sigh. “She certainly never acts like it.” Eeth laughed.

“You only see her once or twice a week,” Eeth said, “she’s _never_ let me forget that she’s older than Yoda! It was her favorite tactic for winning an argument on different interpretations of teachings and the code!” Mace snorted and shook his head. That certainly sounded like something T’la would do.

“Hopefully,” he said, “this investigation turns up nothing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a:  
> Hetikles - noseburn, used to say when something is ~very spicy~ and is a good think in Mandalorian cooking.  
> Gar buir ni skana'din - Your parent ticks me off  
> Al'ni na'kyr'amyr kaych - But I won't kill them  
> Waadas - credits, wealth  
> Sirbur'galar bic - say/spill it (my hodgepodge mashing to make 'spill' in Mando'a, so don't quote me)  
> Dar'jetti - Sith  
> Ulych - Careful  
> Partaylir, ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur - Remember, today is a good day for someone else to die
> 
> The clones will not be Mandalorian in culture: hear me out! Jango has indeed taught them some mando'a that they canonically don't know because his run-ins with Obi-wan and the therapy fam have introduced him to the idea that perhaps he shouldn't "stoop to the Jedi's level" and help commit a genocide, but he's still not available to the clones as a parental figure except Boba.   
> This means that I get to play around with the clones creating their own cultural identity, as we see happen in the clone wars, which - as a future Social/Cultural Anthropologist - I'm STOKED to explore. The Jedi are definitely going to have more of an influence on how their culture develops throughout the war, since Jedi are the ones that the clones work with, not Mandalorians. Additionally, I've re-watched a few of the first episodes, and the one that stuck out to me was "Ambush," where Yoda teaches three clones about the Force, how they're all different and therefore special in the Force, and how to work smarter, not harder.   
> There are a few things from fanon that I'm going to keep, but I'm keeping that information up my metaphorical sleeve!  
> If you read this rant, thank you!


	5. GeoNOsis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank LukeSkywalkersChanelBoots and SteamPoweredAce for encouraging me to use this title instead of the other one I was thinking about! This one is infinitely funnier. 
> 
> We are at Geonosis! Yay! Just about midway there. 
> 
> Happy reading! ~Rozu_chan

“ _Buir_ , are you going to follow Obi-wan?”

“Your _ba’vodu_.”

“Are you going to follow _ba’vodu_?”

“I’ll have to, he’s going to confront a _dar’jetti_ alone, that _di’kut_.” Jango prepared his _beskar’gam_ for a battle, hiding the more dangerous weapons in places within his armor that he knew no one would look. Especially since _beskar_ stopped _jetti_ from reading his thoughts, even _dar’jetti_ like Tyranus.

“Can I come?” Boba was sitting on the edge of Jango’s cot, feet swinging to and fro. He looked very much like the child he was. A memory played in front of Jango’s vision of Obi-wan talking about Melida/Daan after a nightmare. Obi-wan’s face – distressed, tired, infinitely sad – overlapped with Boba’s face in stark contrast. Boba was no innocent, despite his upbringing, despite _where_ he was…conceived. Perhaps even _because_ of those things. The small amount of guilt that Jango had been harboring since his fifteenth meeting with Obi-wan grew. The guilt that moved Jango to teach the clones mando’a, but only mando’a, nothing of the culture. That was too…too…too much like acknowledgement. This was the guilt that would now…

“No, Bob’ika, you stay here.” Boba’s face fell. Jango shifted. “ _Gedet’ye, ad’ika_.” He hoped that would stop the strop before it could begin.

“I’ll stay in Slave 1,” Boba said, a whine entering his voice, “I promise!” Jango hated himself but shook his head.

“No, Bob’ika, I’ll be acting against the _dar’jetti_ ,” he said, “if I’m caught, you would be used against me. Perhaps hurt.” _Definitely hurt_. Perhaps Boba recognized the seriousness in Jango’s voice, perhaps Boba had decided to take a different approach, but what Jango said seemed to get through his _ad_ ’s head. Jango didn’t trust it.

“CC-2224,” he said into a comm after he’d left the room, “make sure Boba doesn’t leave this planet.” Once he’d received an acknowledgement and left the comm-code of Obi-wan’s _ade_ with the commander in case it was needed, Jango left. Commander Cody would make sure Boba couldn’t follow him to Geonosis. He might not have been a good Prime for the clones emotionally, physically, culturally, but kark it if he wasn’t going to be the best _buir_ he could be to Boba.

Slave 1 lifted off the landing platform with only one passenger.

&&&

Geonosis wasn’t bad. Well, Geonosis was a more temperate version of Tatooine, with more water. Obi-wan wasn’t fond of the place. Neither was R4. **This is less enjoyable than that not-oil wet planet. Sand is everywhere. Why.**

“My sentiments exactly, R4,” Obi-wan said as he dropped from the cockpit, “now I understand why Anakin finds sand distasteful.” **Small-being is correct.** **Sand is distasteful.** Obi-wan chuckled and attempted to wipe off some sand that had immediately adhered itself to his face and robes. “Anakin is no longer a small-being,” Obi-wan said to R4, who whistled back indignantly. 

“Darkness should make my sneaking easier,” he said to himself, looking up at the exquisite blanket of stars and far-away systems that were painted across the night sky. “Beautiful.” **Crazy-being, start sneaking.** Obi-wan chuckled again and did what R4 demanded. He kept himself aware of the growing unease in the Force as he listened to the night-time sounds of Geonosis. A slip. A small rattle of loose pebbles being dislodged by his foot. The noises nearest to Obi-wan ceased. _Osik_ , Obi-wan had time to think before the Massiff was on him.

There was no time for using the Force to wrangle the beast into submission, since another leapt into the fray. Obi-wan leapt and swept his saber. The head of one fell. He stabbed upon landing. The other was pierced clean through. _The Sith would have felt that_ , Obi-wan thought. He would have to be careful.

The trail he found himself on lead up and up, and soon Obi-wan found himself overlooking a vast plain, staring at moving dots in the distance. From one of his pockets, he withdrew a pair of bioculs and lifted them to his eyes. Nothing. Obi-wan felt the heat of embarrassment run through him and was suddenly awfully glad that Anakin was not there with him. The bioculs were pointing the wrong way around. Obi-wan peered the right way through the bioculs at those moving dots. Cold horror replaced the heat of embarrassment, leaving Obi-wan shivering as he stared at the impossibility in front of him. Jango had warned him, but seeing the truth of his _vod_ ’s words was an entirely different experience.

What Obi-wan had thought were hills in the distance because of the dark were actually Trade Federation battleships, being armed with millions of droids. One lit up, almost blinding Obi-wan, and then took off. The chill of horror still upon Obi-wan, he lifted the bioculs upwards. More ships. He shivered and licked his lips. Obi-wan had seen enough, he needed to tell the Council. 

The race back to his fighter was much less coordinated than his climb up to his vantage point. Stealth abandoned, Obi-wan almost flew back to where R4 was waiting, dislodging so many more pebbles and rocks along the way that he was distantly surprised no more Massiffs had attacked him. Something in him said he should be more worried about that, along with the ease in which he’d been able to spy on those ships, but Obi-wan – for once – ignored that little voice as he leapt through the hatch of his fighter and hurriedly contacted Coruscant. **Crazy-being?** “I need to get this through immediately, R4.” **Acknowledged, transmitting.** “Apologies for my abruptness, my dear.” **Crazy-being is forgiven!** Obi-wan calmed himself and smiled at R4 as the connection went through. He focused.

“Masters, I have some news…” He reported what he’d seen to Mace and Master Yoda, though Obi-wan noted that he could see Bail, some other senators, and the Chancellor in the meeting as well. He’d likely interrupted something. His bad feeling was growing stronger. Bail’s outrage at the Trade Federation’s breaking of their treaty tore his attention away from examining where the feeling was coming from any further. He had to pay attention.

“That’s outrageous,” Bail sputtered, “the Treaty forbids the Trade Federation from building up an army! What are they doing?” Nothing except mobilizing, currently.

“The droid foundry seems to be working at full capacity,” Obi-wan said, recalling the lines of droids being led to the lines of ships, “I’m going to go down and investigate.” The Force stopped his tongue almost violently when he started to say something about confirming Jango’s words. That bad feeling rose again. Again, before Obi-wan could examine it further, someone spoke and tore him away. That was beginning to become annoying, both for himself and for the Force. 

“Those Geonosian foundries are part of the Techno Union,” the Chancellor said, “We will call in their representatives and ask them a few very pointed questions.” That would be the best way to settle this…misunderstanding…diplomatically. Obi-wan nodded. He said nothing about Tyranus, heeding the Force’s blatant warnings.

“Be careful in your investigations, Obi-wan,” Mace said, “This investigation is becoming less than routine.” Mace _didn’t_ say that this investigation was _already_ less than routine, which was generous of him. “Do you need help?” Obi-wan stroked his beard as he thought for a moment. Anyone who he worked well with on stealth missions were already on missions of their own, and anyone else would arrive too late for any actions to be taken. Obi-wan would have to go at this alone.

“Let me see if I can figure out what’s going on, first.” Obi-wan signed off, hesitated, and then instructed R4 to keep everything as hidden as possible, and if not possible, to take off and head to Coruscant. Obi-wan would just find a way to get back himself. **Crazy-being needs to keep himself hidden.** Obi-wan chuckled. “Good point, R4. I’ll be careful.” He leapt back out of the fighter and began a quick-paced jog in the direction he’d seen the droid battalions coming from. Perhaps he’d see enough to understand more of what was going on there.

The run was shorter than he’d expected, and with a shiver of trepidation, Obi-wan realized that if he’d landed any closer, he and R4 would have definitely been spotted. If not by droids, then by the Geonosians and their allies. “Who are their allies, I wonder, other than the Trade Federation?” Obi-wan was staring at a few different transports as he whispered this to himself. And R4, apparently, who beeped questioningly through his comm-unit. R4. Of _course_. “R4, I need to know which people these transports belong to.” She had remote access to the archives, which Obi-wan had quite forgotten until just then. He sent a warm thank-you to the Force, which responded with what amounted to an admonishing but fond finger-wag. Obi-wan smiled as he waited for R4 to come up with answers. A beep and a whistle. Obi-wan checked the unit.

“Serenno, Trade Federation, Corporate Alliance, three unknowns – odd, but not unusual – the Commerce Guild, the Intergalactic Bank Clan – goodness there’s quite a few powerhouses – and, ah, of course. The Techno Union. I should have guessed that last one, myself.” Obi-wan sighed in consternation. “Though, what Serenno is doing here, I have no idea. Perhaps they are backing this Darth Tyranus in some way? What do you think, R4?” **Process of elimination.** “Ah, of course.” **Interesting find, sending information.** “Let’s see, then. Better use our little encryption for this, R4.” She beeped in confirmation.

The information took time to send through the encryption, but it was worth it for the results. “Master Dooku is the Count of Serenno? But isn’t he also part of the Separatist movement?” **The information is correct.** “Well, yes, but this is a bit of a shock. _What_ is Master Dooku doing _here_?” **Unknown, Crazy-being.** Obi-wan frowned mightily (it wasn’t a scowl, no matter _what_ Feemor said, and it definitely wasn’t adorable) at the transports. Perhaps this wasn’t something he should be alone in. Another beep from his comm-unit, this time not from R4.

‘Heard from Mace you needed assist. Close enough to join you in half a standard hour. Stand-bye.’ Feemor. Obi-wan felt a warm sense of happiness clog his throat and chest. He grinned.

‘Acknowledged,’ Obi-wan sent back through R4’s encryption, ‘location being sent via further encryption through R4.’ Obi-wan settled back – hidden amongst the rocks – to wait. This would go infinitely better, with two Jedi on the job. Infiltration wasn’t much of Obi-wan’s specialty anyway, that was better left to – ironically – Quinlan. Sitting back and waiting wasn’t so bad, Obi-wan mused as he stared around at the landscape. From the top of his hill, he could see the texture of the landscape as well as the numerous plateaus and hills. If he squinted and pretended that the landscape was any color other than red and various shades of brown and orange, Obi-wan thought that this place could be beautiful.

Time passed, and about half a standard hour – perhaps a few minutes more – later, Obi-wan was alerted to Feemor’s presence growing closer. His padawan-brother had landed by Obi-wan’s fighter, according to both their shared bond as well as R4, who had immediately alerted Obi-wan of his arrival, along with a few compliments about Feemor’s hair. Obi-wan shifted from his hiding-place and caught Feemor’s eye.

The years had been kind to his brother, hair still golden, face unwrinkled – as opposed to Obi-wan, who’d had to chase after Anakin for years and so had a few hairs on his temples that were grey from stress – eyes still joyfully blue, in their sad way. Feemor had never quite lost that sadness in his gaze that Obi-wan had noticed the first time they’d met, all those years ago. That same sadness pushed Obi-wan to envelope his brother in a tight hug now, mission be damned. Feemor returned the hug with gusto.

“Thought you could get away without comming me for an entire mission, eh?” Feemor said, laughing quietly in Obi-wan’s shoulder. Obi-wan chuckled as well and squeezed a bit more tightly in retribution. “I’ve let T’la know the basics, and I updated that insolent padawan of yours.”

“Thank you, Fee.”

“It wasn’t a problem at all, Obi. That kid was worried about the emotions he’d been sensing from you.” Feemor released Obi-wan only enough to look him in the eyes. Obi-wan stared steadily back.

“That bond is stronger than I think we know.” Obi-wan replied to Feemor’s unasked question. The older Jedi sighed and patted Obi-wan’s shoulders sympathetically, then nodded at the large castle-structure just beyond the ridge.

“Where’s our entrance?”

“I was thinking of that turret on the side, there.” Obi-wan pointed at the largest turret. Feemor was silent for a moment.

“Obi, that isn’t a turret.” Obi-wan continued to point to the turret that was definitely-a-turret. “Obi, that is the _main spire_.” No, it wasn’t.

“No, it isn’t.”

“Yes, it is.”

“That is a turret.”

“You want us to infiltrate a Geonosian castle through the _main spire_.”

“Well, I suppose my plan sounds ridiculous when you put it _that_ way.”

“There’s no other way to put it.”

“There’s no other way in without anyone seeing us except through that top window.” Obi-wan only just stopped himself from smiling widely when Feemor raised his eyes up to the clouds. “Are you praying to the Force?”

“For patience, yes.”

“Perhaps Anakin’s penchant for more risky plans has rubbed off on me.”

“Perhaps?” Feemor rubbed his nose and stared at the castle. “Perhaps. Or perhaps you’ve always had these plans, and you’ve just rubbed off on _him_.” Obi-wan had to think about just how angry Mace was going to be to keep his face straight. That almost didn’t work, judging by Feemor’s answering eye-roll. 

“Any other ideas?” Obi-wan had tried to think of other ideas that had less chance of being discovered, but couldn’t come up with any, much to his own consternation. Feemor sighed in defeat.

“None, unfortunately. The _main spire_ it is.” Obi-wan chuckled and looped an arm around Feemor’s waist for a quick side-hug. Feemor sighed in mock-reluctance – rather a bit too dramatized, really – and side-hugged Obi-wan back.

“Onwards, then?” Obi-wan asked. Feemor nodded.

“Onwards.”

&&&

Entering the spire was relatively simple, even with sparing use of the Force. Keeping from being seen was another matter, but Obi-wan and Feemor managed well enough. Their presence wouldn’t go unnoticed by, say, Master Koon or Master Yoda, but he and Feemor were sneaky enough for the majority of the temple. Hopefully, this Darth Tyranus was at the same level as most of the temple. However, since Obi-wan’s best laid plans typically went sideways in the most impressive of ways, Feemor was hidden even more than Obi-wan was, behind multiple layers of notice-me-nots.

“Around here, perhaps?” Obi-wan whispered into the dimly lit hallway. He couldn’t see Feemor at all, though he knew that his lineage-brother was there. The pillars that he was skirting around were tall, stretching almost the whole span of the main spire, and in between them were grated and ungrated vents. “One of these?” He peered down through an ungrated vent. Droids. An entire _factory_ worth of droids. His day was just getting better and better. A small _snick_ alerted Obi-wan to Feemor’s presence right next to him, stealthily taking holopics of the factory below.

“Do we really want this evidence? It could start a war.” Obi-wan pointed out. Feemor hummed and a tendril of his presence snuck past thick shielding to sooth Obi-wan’s hackles.

“ _I know what I’m doing, little brother_.”

“ _Oh, I don’t doubt that for a second_.” Obi-wan replied with a roll of his eyes. “ _Shall we move on before those workers spot us? And by us, I of course mean_ me.” Feemor gave the Force-equivalent of an ‘after you’ gesture and Obi-wan snuck forward, even more careful now than he had been.

The stroll down the thin corridor was suspiciously quiet. Obi-wan stretched his presence out as far as he dared to find life-forms, but could sense none. “I don’t like this,” he said as they approached the entrance to what Obi-wan thought could be a large cavern. He was right. It was also beautiful, full of stalagmites reaching up-up-up into the ceiling, carved with depictions of history and intricate patterns that mimicked the life-cycle of a Geonosian. The ceiling was arched in a gothic style that fit the overall tone of Geonosis itself, and there was no one in the large cavern to admire this feat of art except for Obi-wan and Feemor. Chills ran down Obi-wan’s spine. Where were the inhabitants? Surely they weren’t _all_ working down in the factory.

“Hark! From the right our foe approaches.” Feemor’s sudden murmured comment made Obi-wan almost jump. He hadn’t expected Feemor to actually speak out loud. Let alone for Feemor to quote from one of Fastidula’s works. He and Feemor moved to a more defensible and inobtrusive position to spy. Was that…

“ _Dooku_?” He and Feemor shared with each other in the same moment. Obi-wan stared at the wall with wide eyes, just barely catching the conversation that was happening as the group passed by. He’d suspected, of course, upon seeing the Seranno vessel, but to have his suspicions _confirmed_ was…unsettling to put it mildly. All the dignitaries that Obi-wan had suspected would be there were there, walking alongside Obi-wan and Feemor’s Grandmaster. Ah, Dooku was talking about killing Senator Amidala. Wonderful. So _good_ to see that Feemor and Obi-wan’s lineage was _exactly_ as karked up as he’d always thought it was. Absolutely _spiffing_.

“ _Did you suspect_?” Ah, he hadn’t told Feemor. Whoops.

“ _There was a Serrano ship, but to have my suspicions confirmed_ …” Obi-wan grimaced lightly and Feemor sent an understanding tendril back.

“ _He’s likely clocked us_ ,” Feemor said musingly. Obi-wan quirked an eyebrow. “ _Ah, yes, I know. When there’s a trap, spring the trap_.” Obi-wan grinned, and the two snuck forwards, following the dignitaries from afar.

They eventually reached another archway, this time an entrance to a conference room, with a long set of steps leading down. The echo was sufficient enough that Obi-wan and Feemor could keep out of the sightline of anyone in the room and still hear everything being said. Obi-wan peeked round the corner. _Jango_?

That _was_ Jango, standing behind Master Dooku. _He must have left Kamino almost immediately after I did to arrive so promptly_. The Mand’alor was standing at parade-rest, silently observing the rest of the room.

“Now is the time, my friends,” Master Dooku’s voice rang out cloyingly, “This is the moment when you have to decide between the Republic or the Confederacy of Independent Systems.” Dooku went on. Ten _thousand_ systems? Obi-wan had known that the Republic had been stagnating for quite some time, but all the same, _ten thousand_? And completely free trade? Obi-wan frowned. That didn’t sound like it would do any group but the Trade Federation good, aside from the no tariffs business. Then again, he wasn’t an expert at the monetary side of politics. That was more Feemor. He sent a query to Feemor, who sent a frustrated frown back. Helpful.

“…we shall have an army greater than anything in the Galaxy. The Jedi will be overwhelmed. The Republic will agree to any demands we make.” Master Dooku was a krykna, leering from his perch in his web at the prey that had been stupid enough to stumble into his trap.

“ _Overwhelm the Jedi_?” Feemor sent, “ _What do_ we _have to do with any of this_?”

“ _Politically speaking, we are currently little more than the Senate’s enforcers_.” Obi-wan replied. “ _We are absolutely beholden to the Senate, and if they tell us to quell an uprising, we will have to, or face some rather drastic consequences that were put in place a few decades after the Ruusan Reformation. Thankfully, they have yet to do that more than once_.” A look from Feemor had Obi-wan elaborating. “ _Galidraan_.”

“ _That doesn’t sound great_.”

“ _No. And the Corporate Alliance is signing the treaty_.”

“ _Hmm…I don’t like how the Banking Clan put that_.” Feemor sounded troubled. Obi-wan laid a calming hand on his brother’s arm and squeezed lightly. While he couldn’t understand the intricacies of what was happening, he knew that nothing good was about to come of it.

“ _Come,_ ” he said, “ _We should return to our ships and send our message. Hopefully, the Chancellery and the Senate will be able to negotiate a more peaceful split_.” Though with the kinds of legislation that Chancellor Palpatine had been allowing to pass, Obi-wan doubted there would be anything less than a skirmish. While he didn’t want to think about an all-out war, he was pragmatic enough to ready himself for that eventuality. Obi-wan and Feemor pulled back from the archway and snuck back out the way they had entered, all the while keeping a watchful eye and ear out in case of any surprises.

Arriving back at their fighters, Obi-wan and Feemor quickly attempted to reach the temple. Nothing.

“That’s funny,” Obi-wan said, “this was working plenty fine before.” Feemor frowned and exchanged glances with his own R3 unit. “R4, can you try again?” **Same results, too far.** “I know, my dear, but it had been working fine from here before. What changed?” **Unknown, crazy-man.** “Ah, well. Can you boost the power?” **Tried that last attempt. Obviously.** “Very sassy today, aren’t you.” R4 snerked at him.

“Anakin rubbed off on you,” Feemor said, amused. Of course, Feemor always said that when Obi-wan spoke to R4, and Obi-wan always replied in the same way.

“It was Qui-gon who taught me to speak to everything, regardless of sentience. Which R4 definitely has.” Feemor scoffed at that – as was tradition – before attempting the long-range comm himself. “Anything?” Obi-wan asked.

“Nothing.” Feemor was frowning now. “Interference, do you think?”

“Yes. Keep an eye out.” Obi-wan turned back to R4. “We’ll have to try something else,” he said to the droid, “maybe we can contact Anakin on Naboo. It’s much closer.” Obi-wan leapt into the cockpit and fiddled with the comm codes. A shorter range seemed to work, but just barely.

"Alright,” Obi-wan said as he jumped back out of the cockpit, “all set.”

“We don’t have much time.” Feemor’s voice was strained. “I just saw a shadow, and the Force is telling me of a lifeform…or twenty.” Obi-wan grimaced and nodded.

“Anakin, do you copy? This is Obi-wan Kenobi.” **It’s that insolent R2 unit.** “Good enough. Record this message and take it to your mistress, Padme, and the Jedi Skywalker.” The R2 unit beeped in confirmation. There was also an insult in there on how the astromech remembered little Ani, Obi-wan didn’t need to specify his last name. “Good to know. Regardless, please get this to them as soon as possible. Anakin, my and Feemor’s long-range transmissions have been blocked. Retransmit this message to Coruscant.” Feemor moved behind Obi-wan so they were standing back-to-back. He was braced, lightsaber out but not lit, ready for a fight. “I have tracked my lead to the droid foundries on Geonosis. The Trade Federation is taking control of a droid army here, and it is clear that Viceroy Gunray is behind the assassination attempts on Senator Amidala.”

“ _We’re cutting this close_.”

“ _Yes_.”

“The Commerce Guilds and Corporate Alliance have both pledged their armies to Count Dooku and are forming an-“ a plasma shot cut Obi-wan off, but it was deflected by Feemor. “forming an alliance with the express purpose of breaking from the Republic." Another shot. Two. Three. Fifteen. Feemor blocked them all. “Our suggestion on this account is to-“

“There’s too many!” Feemor was a whirlwind, blocking and reflecting as he hissed the words out between clenched teeth. Obi-wan drew his own lightsaber to join the fray.

“Our suggestion is to begin negotiations to allow this alliance to peacefully separate from the Republic. R4, cut transmission and take the fighter to atmo, evasive maneuvers, head to Coruscant!” A plasma shot got past Feemor, and Obi-wan deflected it. **What about crazy-man?** “Just _go_ , R4!” **Crazy-man is rude. Fine.**

“R3, go with R4!” Feemor shouted at his own astromech. The fighters lifted off as Obi-wan and Feemor continued to deflect plasma shot after plasma shot. Obi-wan felt a curl of _something_ in the Force as he and Feemor stood shoulder to shoulder. He hoped they hadn’t just made a big mistake.

Ten. Fifteen. Thirty. Obi-wan couldn’t count how many Geonosians there were, he just knew that there were many more than he and Feemor could fend off. Miraculously, he and Feemor were able to hold out in the putrid heat of the Geonosian desert for long enough that their fighters had completely left atmo before Feemor was struck by a plasma shot. He crumpled in a way that tossed Obi-wan’s stomach upside down, and Obi-wan stepped over his brother, called his lightsaber into his other hand, and began to fight using Jar’kai.

Dust was in his eyes. He closed them. Sight wasn’t needed for this. It was like the Temple exercises.

The shriek of a cannon. Obi-wan braced with the Force. It wasn’t enough. Darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mando'a:  
> ba'vodu - I couldn't actually find the equivalent of 'aunt' or 'uncle,' and there were other fics using this same mash of words, so I'm using it!


	6. Let me be that I am and seek not to alter me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Padme

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a kind of midway chapter! I wanted to try out Padme's perspective, and since I really like badass Padme (which when I remember is actually cannon I get SO HAPPY) I wanted to show her discontent with being sidelined.  
> This is a shorter chapter, about 2k words, mainly because it is a midway chapter, and I won't be posting next Saturday. Reason being: The end of the semester is coming up quick, and because I have a whole week off of school, I've elected to do ALL THE SCHOOL THINGS this week.  
> This is definitely some kind of cliffhanger, but I'm evil enough to not be sorry at all!  
> All of Padme's dress/clothing is in the endnotes, if anyone is interested in that.
> 
> Have a great read! ~Rozu_chan

Padme rustled through her closet in her family’s villa with a long sigh. Returning to Naboo had definitely _not_ been on the list of expectations that she had for the start of her senatorial career. While she would never begrudge more time with her family, Padme couldn’t help the aching feeling that she had the minute she stepped away from her duties to her people. This feeling had been what kept her from sleeping during her first years as Queen, what made that durasteel rod that kept her back straight and her head up. Padme pulled out a light tan dress embroidered everywhere with Nabooian flowers. Her hair she left half up in a loose braid. When she left her room, she saw Anakin down the hall towards the dining room.

Protection. Padme mentally scoffed. She _had_ protection in Coruscant already, she needn’t have come home. The Chancellor of _all_ people should have remembered just how fierce the Naboo truly were despite the frippery and finery they presented to the rest of the galaxy. How dedicated their people were to the causes they stood for. A bodyguard. She had plenty, and did not need another. Rabe joined her, as if reading her mind, and the two walked down the hall towards Anakin. Rabe was wearing the same dress, her hair in the same style. Padme smiled warmly at her friend, the same smile turned polite – though still with a hint of warmth – as she directed the smile at Anakin. He smiled back with a small blush, so like the nine-year-old she’d befriended all those years ago. Her small grudge was perhaps a bit petty, she knew, but the lack of ability to _do_ anything rankled.

“Did you have a good rest, Senator?” Senator. The word soured her stomach. She wasn’t a _senator_ at the moment, far away from Coruscant, without the ability to represent Naboo.

“Padme, please,” she said, “and I slept well, thank you. You?” Anakin ducked his head slightly.

“Well enough.” He didn’t elaborate, but stepped aside so that Padme and Rabe could pass by him through the arch into the dining room. The two drifted by him with the elegance that was taught to them from birth. The rest of the family was either still eating or had already had their first meal and left to pursue their daily duties. Padme felt a small sense of envy of her kin that had duties they could readily attend. She brushed that aside the best she could, and sat down.

“Padme, darling, here is the blue milk for the grains.” Padme’s mother passed a delicate, clear jug from the other side of the table. Padme quickly poured the contents to her desired amount in her bowl and passed the milk to Rabe, who did the same and passed the milk to Anakin. Once he had finished, there was no one left to pass the milk to, so Anakin awkwardly set it back in the middle of the table.

This was going to be a long stay, with nothing to do.

&&&

The second day was much like the first, boring with no duties to complete except for reading and readying speeches for her return. No matter what she’d implied to the Jedi, she truly did believe that Obi-wan would be able to find out who exactly was behind her assassination attempt. He was a highly competent individual. The only question was if he would figure _that_ mystery out fast enough for her to stop the war bill from passing.

Her attire was the only thing different about the second day: a maroon dress with embroidered flowers. Rabe wore the same dress. Their hair was the same. Padme studiously did _not_ snap her stylus in two.

&&&

Why did she have so many dresses with flowers embroidered onto them? She asked Rabe, who had sensed her indecision and decided to make her way to Padme’s room to help her dress, just like old times.

“Flowers are our strength,” Rabe reminded her, “beautiful but they can also be extremely dangerous and deadly.”

“And we can send messages,” Padme added with a frown. She was tempted to wear something _without_ flowers, just to show how much she _didn’t_ want to hide.

“And we can send messages,” Rabe agreed, “perhaps this one?” Light blue with a cap sleeve. And the meaning of the flowers…

“Do I really want to tell mamma that I hate being here?”

“Don’t you?”

“Hmm…”

She wore the dress, and Mamma just sighed at her second youngest daughter lovingly and fixed her with an understanding look. Then, she put Padme to work helping her father with the city accounts. She loved her mother quite dearly sometimes.

&&&

The downside about having a bodyguard was that she and Rabe couldn’t find enough time to slip away to train.

Padme liked Anakin, truly she did. She’d missed the friend she’d made, worn the Japor snippet when she could get away with it (easier under the humbling weight of the Queen’s wardrobe), and did absolutely enjoy getting to know him again after so many years apart. There was the small matter of his crush on her, of course, but as time marched on and the days flew by, Padme was satisfied to see that Anakin was either getting better at hiding his crush or he was truly getting over it and focusing on strengthening their friendship. She hoped it was the latter.

In fact, their friendship had strengthened to the point where Padme could sense him as she could Rabe, Sabe, Dorme, or any of the other handmaidens. This was how she found Anakin one morning, staring out at the trees from a balcony, feeling worried and not a little bit frightened.

“Anakin?” Padme asked cautiously, “Is everything alright?” He glanced over his shoulder at her and attempted a smile, and when that didn’t persuade her (of course it wouldn’t, she could _feel_ his discontent), a shrug.

“I have nightmares that feel like visions,” he said, “and this one was a bit unnerving.” Padme leaned backwards against the balcony railing.

“Maybe if you tell me what it was about, it will feel less unnerving.” That pulled a laugh out of Anakin. Padme would have been offended if he hadn’t immediately sobered and responded.

“I doubt it, you died in the dream, as did Obi-wan.” He paused, and then added, “well, sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“He might as well have been dead, with how he felt in the Force.”

“Did he Fall?” that would be alarming. She’d heard of Falling before, from the old tales of the wars, passed down through the generations of certain families who’d fought alongside the Alderaanians and the Jedi. The descriptions were never pleasant, and no person who’d Fallen had a good ending to their life-story. The iron hand gripping her heart released when Anakin shook his head vehemently.

“No, no, he didn’t fall.” He smiled. “Obi-wan would be the last person in the whole galaxy to fall. I think he’d sooner die.” Well, that was both relieving and disturbing. Padme elected not to comment on _that_. 

“Then what?”

“It was like he was empty, his eyes weren’t smiling even though _he_ was. They were only full of grief and infinite sadness.” Anakin’s eyes had gone glossy, whether he was looking at the memory again or he was about to cry, Padme couldn’t tell. She placed a hand on his arm.

“Did it truly feel like a vision?” A hesitation. A shake of his head. “Then telling me will do no harm, and may help you process the dream better.” Anakin smiled at her broadly, and Padme smiled back. Something that had been clenched in her heart released.

“Alright,” Anakin said, “if you think it would help that much, I’ll tell you.” And he did. A world of fire and lava, anger and hate both the fuel and the flame to a mistake which killed one loved one and broke another. A fight, brother against brother, father against son, which ended in pain, great pain and suffering, on both sides. There were no winners in that fight, not when both lost something more precious than their lives. And that was where the dream ended.

Padme stood in silence when Anakin finished, staring up at the leafy vines that twined their way up the sides of the walls and curled protectively around doors and windows. Her heart was heavy.

“That is not a nice dream,” she said after a moment. Anakin snorted in amusement, standing up straighter and looser than he had when she’d first entered the balcony. Mission accomplished on that end, then. 

&&&

“Why do I only have dresses in this closet?” Padme asked Rabe. The two had decided to get together every morning to find the best subtle-insult dress that they could find that wouldn’t end with Padme’s family throwing her out onto her ass. It was a fun challenge, but Padme was sick of wearing dresses now, and wanted to don one of her old handmaiden’s trouser uniforms to train with Rabe. The only problem was that Padme couldn’t find the uniforms.

“There’s nothing in this chest, either.” Rabe was on the other side of the room, almost lazily sifting through the chests that held Padme’s old Queen wardrobe. Padme wondered if her friend was even looking. Probably not, but she wouldn’t call Rabe out on it.

“Ah-ha!” Padme cheered as she pulled a light blue number out of the back of her closet. “The trouser legs are a tad large, but they’ll do for a few bouts.” Rabe looked it over with a yawn, eyes squeezing shut, and nodded.

“I have that one, I think.”

Padme and Rabe took turns braiding each other’s hair tightly to their scalps, pinning and twirling into intricate designs that were meant for aesthetics just as much as they were to hide pin-thin weapons. Once that was done, they nodded at each other and scurried out the window after pinning notes to almost every surface telling Anakin to just wait until they came back, and they weren’t going near any civilization, promise.

“I haven’t done this since we left for Coruscant,” Padme said as they stretched in the meadow by the waterfalls. Rabe grinned, all teeth and mercilessness. Padme grinned back. She _loved_ her friends. They struck.

Some time later, the girls traipsed merrily back into the courtyard of the villa, and Anakin’s head poked over the bannister with an exasperated and tired look on his face. He was wearing makeup. Badly applied makeup. Padme giggled at the mess her nieces had made of Anakin’s face. Rabe’s face did some complicated gymnastics before settling on a mischievous grin.

“Such lovely colors,” Rabe complimented. Anakin turned a solemn face to her.

“Thank you,” he said. **There’s a message** said R2.

“What?” Padme and Rabe had almost made their way up all the steps, but they stopped and stared at the droid who had rolled his way out of the villa and allowed her nieces to cling onto him. “From who?” **An impertinent droid named R4. From Obi-wan Kenobi.**

“Obi-wan sent a message?” Anakin’s solemn face turned into worry. “Why didn’t he contact me through the bond?”

“Girls, please go inside.” They went. “Please, R2, play the message.” Padme and Rabe sat on the top step and watched unblinkingly as the little droid whistled and a small Obi-wan burst to life as a recording.

“Anakin, do you copy? This is Obi-wan Kenobi.” The astromech on Obi-wan’s side apparently said something that they couldn’t hear. “Good enough. Record this message and take it to your mistress, Padme, and the Jedi Skywalker.” Another pause. Padme and Anakin exchanged glances. “Good to know. Regardless, please get this to them as soon as possible. Anakin, my and Feemor’s long-range transmissions have been blocked. Retransmit this message to Coruscant.” A figure moved behind Obi-wan so they were standing back to back. R2 paused the message and whistled inquiringly. Anakin pulled his comm out and fiddled with it, dialing someone.

“That’s Feemor,” Anakin said as he reached over and handed R2 his comm, which the droid took and did something with. Suddenly, the faces of who Padme recognized to be Masters Windu and Yoda. “Why’s Feemor with Obi?”

“We sent him to help Knight Kenobi,” Master Windu said, “he had said that this mission required stealth. How did _you_ come to know this?” Padme frowned at the wording and emphasis, but a quick glance at Anakin showed that the teen wasn’t bothered. She lowered her metaphorical hackles, but kept an eye on Anakin.

“Obi-wan has a message for you and is apparently far enough away from Coruscant that the message isn’t reaching,” Anakin answered, “that or he’s right and the long-range transmissions have been blocked.”

“He’s with R4?” Master Windu asked. Anakin nodded. “Then the transmissions have been knocked out. There’s no distance that little droid can’t finagle some kind of signal for.”

“That’s true. Would you like us to play the message?”

“Please.”

“R2?” The droid beeped, something derogatory, Padme was sure, since she couldn’t understand the binary and Rabe was hiding a sharkish smile behind a delicate hand. Obi-wan began moving again, and then spoke.

“I have tracked my lead to the droid foundries on Geonosis. The Trade Federation is taking control of a droid army here, and it is clear that Viceroy Gunray is behind the assassination attempts on Senator Amidala.” Padme frowned. _Him_ again?

“The Commerce Guilds and Corporate Alliance have both pledged their armies to Count Dooku and are forming an-“ a plasma shot – by the sound of it – cut Obi-wan off, and the figure behind him made a sharp movement. A tense second later, Obi-wan continued. “forming an alliance with the express purpose of breaking from the Republic." There were too many shots to count. Padme and Rabe grasped hands, too focused on the message to see Anakin’s reaction. “Our suggestion on this account is to-“

“There’s too many!” The figure behind Obi-wan suddenly shouted out. Padme could no longer tell what the figure’s form was, they were moving so quickly. Padme saw Obi-wan’s face grow strained as he drew his own lightsaber.

“Our suggestion is to begin negotiations to allow this alliance to peacefully separate from the Republic. R4, cut transmission-“ The transmission ended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Padme's Clothes:  
> First dress: Andrea & Leo "Savannah Gown"  
> Second dress: Andrea & Leo "Kathy Gown"  
> Third dress: Andrea & Leo "Cap Sleeve Floral Guipere Lace A-line Gown"  
> The Sparring Outfit: The outfit from Tatooine (I can't really tell if the bottoms are pants or not, but I'm pretending)

**Author's Note:**

> Notes on Scottish Gaelic:  
> innis dhomh - tell me
> 
> Mando'a:  
> Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur - today is a good day for someone else to die  
> Vor entye - thank you  
> Ret'urcye mhi, buir - Goodbye, mom/dad/parent  
> ad'ike - children


End file.
